


10 Reasons Not to Love Dean Winchester

by TheDeanmon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeanmon/pseuds/TheDeanmon
Summary: ""I always think about you," Castiel said, cheeks coloring the instant the sentence left him. Dean's hand stilled where he'd been searching for another rock, shoulders becoming tense. Cas hoped that the light sunburn he'd picked up helping with his dad's wife's garden was enough to mask his embarrassment. "I think about all of you guys," he added, mouth suddenly very dry, and head very empty.Dean relaxed, picking up the rock and tossing it over. "Yeah, man, our group's really the best."God bless Dean Winchester and his willingness to overlook Castiel's many, accidental declarations of love."
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Male Character(s), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Jo Harvelle/Original Female Character(s), Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester
Comments: 37
Kudos: 126





	1. There's Too Much History There

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a long one, literally a year and a half in the making. I've been spurred on by the impending finale of Supernatural, and - since I didn't get it out in the timeline I wanted (oops) - the ultimate conclusion of the show. The last two chapters were written with tears in my eyes for real. Feel free to message me with any questions (or with any venting about the finale because I totally get it.) As always, comments are always appreciated. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Castiel moved into the cream colored house on ElmWood Avenue on his ninth birthday, making it the worst gift he’d ever received. Kansas was, to put it nicely, an empty lot. A statewide field of sunflowers, cows, and wheat. A far cry from the hustle and bustle of downtown Portland where Cas had been living with his mom and stepdad until his dad threw a hissy in front of the custody judge and here he was, moving away from his mom and his stepsister and all of his friends, not to see them until the middle of May. It was torture. 

It was Hell. 

The saving grace of it all was his bedroom. A large, corner room on the second floor with a loft bed and skylights. It was as far away as he could get from his father and his noisy, mean brothers. The room was almost enough to make him forget how much he liked his room back home with his mom. Almost. 

The backyard wasn’t anything to write home about, but just beyond the chain link fence lay a dirt footpath disappearing into a brown and green forest, and that, well, that was enough to pique Castiel’s interest and send him, renewed with vigor, into the excitement Kansas - hopefully - had to offer.

He set off down the trail after squeezing out of the hug his dad forced him into and lifting a shoulder when asked when he’d be returning. It was nice enough outside, he supposed. A bit cool, but it was the end of September so he had known to expect the nip in the air. Zipping up his red windbreaker, he bounded down the path, climbing up on a fallen tree and then jumping down into a shallow puddle of thin, dirty water. He smiled a little, thinking of the beautiful, perfect rainstorms back in Oregon, and then he moved on. Castiel peered around at the trees and bushes around him, pushing further into the forest and pretending he was on some grand adventure with thrilling black wings propelling him forward rather than the yellow rain boots his sister had given him the night before at his birthday party. 

He came to a halt when he identified a circular pool of greenish-blue water covered in moss and scum, looking like everything a nine year old boy would love to venture into. Surrounding the perimeter of the pond were a series of large rocks, the perfect size for perching upon, and Castiel did just that, climbing atop one and gazing out at the rippling water. It was perfect. A private utopia. He let himself smile before he remembered that he hated it there. 

Castiel stayed there for a long while, hopping from rock to rock, talking to himself like he was a hero in a fairytale. Occasionally, he would toss loose gravel, sticks, and leaves into the water, imagining he was a wizard perfecting a potion that would return him to the safe, welcoming arms of the pacific northwest. He froze when he heard a voice behind him, distant and high. It certainly didn’t seem threatening, but then again, this  _ was  _ Kansas. Castiel started to sweat as the voice crept nearer to him, and he thought of what his options were. He could retreat further into the forest, but because he didn’t know where the person was headed it would be a risky move. Or, he could head back down the path to his dad’s house, but he’d almost certainly pass the other person on his way out. The only other possibility he saw was to stay there and either hide or fight, and he wasn’t much of a fighter, so he jumped from the rock he’d been balancing on, knees knocking into the dirt at the base, ripping a hole into his already patched denim jeans. Quickly but carefully, Castiel backed himself into the lining of the trees, trying to disguise himself among the shrubbery, thankful that not all the leaves had fallen from the trees yet. 

Castiel didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a boy around his age with dark blonde hair who was wearing cut off shorts and tall, mismatched socks. The boy was chatting with himself, mentioning some kind of authoritarian figure called “The Admiral,” and making starkly professional military motions with his tan arms. Castiel watched curiously as the boy crouched behind one of the larger rocks and pretended to speak into a walkie talkie that was actually his left hand clenched in a fist. The boy yammered on and on into his hand about some kind of enemy with a special weapon hidden in the murky lagoon behind him which he frequently called “the deep well.”

Ducked down and stooping in the trees like a shy animal, Castiel watched the other boy play for several minutes before he slowly righted himself and weaved his way around felled trees and other natural debris, trying his hardest not to make any noise to alert the boy to his presence in the woods, lest he take his existence as a sign that he wanted to play. 

Somehow, despite not directly following the path he’d originally taken, Castiel found his way back to his dad’s house, snaking his way through the back gate which was slightly ajar and creeping into the kitchen through the back door unnoticed by everyone apart from his older brother Michael who barely looked up at him at all. Quietly, Castiel ascended the stairs to start fixing his bedroom the way he wanted to. He worked methodically on organizing his things. His books went on the built-in shelving units under his tall bed, lined in alphabetical order, his clothes went to the small closet, separating the articles based on which season they were appropriate for, and his other toys and art supplies got stored in various drawers around the room. He hummed music from his elementary choir class under his breath while he worked, only stopping when his dad knocked on his door and asked what kind of pizza he wanted for dinner.

Mondays were just as bad in Kansas as they were in Oregon, except worse because Castiel didn’t get to eat his stepdad's famous French toast for breakfast. Oh, and also because, in Oregon, Castiel wouldn’t have to start a new school or try to make new friends or talk to anyone he didn’t want to. He got the feeling that being the new kid was going to mean talking to everyone and that wasn’t something he felt even  _ slightly  _ prepared for. His dad dropped him off in front of the Lawrence Public Elementary School building a little before eight o’clock, giving him a proud look and an unfortunate kiss on the forehead. At breakfast, shredded wheat and grape juice instead of pineapple, his dad had asked Castiel’s brother, Gabriel, to help him around the building if he needed it, and Gabe had lamented that he would, but by the time Castiel made it into the building, his brother had either forgotten about or decided against the simple act of compassion and disappeared without so much as a “Good luck!” So Castiel was on his own. 

Again. 

Lawrence Public Elementary was bigger inside than Castiel had been expecting it to be, housing kindergarten through sixth grade was no small task after all. Navigating the halls by himself was tricky business, but he managed to find his classroom, a small area operated by Mrs. Moseley, a large, loud woman with kind dark eyes. Castiel looked around at the other fourth graders and decided Portland had an obvious leg up. After all, Mr. Henrickson ran a tight ship. Mrs. Moseley, on the other hand, seemed to be more focused on the fun elements of school than the actual learning parts, something that Castiel could understand was appealing but didn’t care for himself. She was, however, a saint of a woman, allowing Castiel to pick a seat rather than stand to introduce himself.

He picked a seat in a mostly empty corner of the room, near a blonde girl with a few colored pencils held proudly in one hand. She had one missing tooth, on the bottom row, and a long braid down her back. “You’re new,” she observed, laying her pencils down side by side. “I’m Jo, what’s your name?” 

Castiel’s best friend back home was a boy named Joe. He had red hair and an extensive knowledge of yo-yo tricks. “Castiel,” he replied softly. He wasn’t really shy, though he knew that’s how he appeared, he just didn’t really like making conversation.

“Can I call you Cas?” Jo asked, biting on her bottom lip nervously as she asked. 

“Everyone does,” Castiel said with a nod. “I understand it’s a complex name.” 

Jo grinned at him, “Awesome.” Castiel studied her for just a second. There was a pink barrette clipped to the hem of her left sleeve, and Castiel noticed the loose hairs by her ear that he assumed the barrette had been meant to tame. She seemed nice and the handwriting on her notebook was neat and measured. Maybe she wouldn’t be too bad to be friends with. Just as quickly as the thought came, however, it vanished. “You picked a great desk, my friends are sometimes a little late, but they sit here too.” Great. Just what he’d been hoping to avoid, an established group of friends. Instead of saying anything, he busied himself with the contents of his backpack. Jo let him, thank God. 

It was almost seven minutes after class had started when the door opened and a preppy looking girl walked in, accompanied by the boy Castiel had watched playing the day before. He felt his stomach drop. The boy that he’d tried so desperately to avoid was in the same class, and headed for the desk right in front of him. “Mr. Winchester, Ms. Braeden, nice of you to finally join us this morning,” Mrs. Moseley teased from her position at the chalkboard. The rest of the class “ooh”ed, but Castiel watched in wide eyed horror as the boy settled into the desk in front of him and twisted in his seat to offer Castiel a smile and, “Hi.” The girl took the free seat behind Jo, eyeing Castiel curiously, not saying a word. 

Castiel had hoped that, at lunch, he’d be able to find Gabriel or at least sit by himself to eat the lunch his dad had packed, but he was let down by Kansas once more as Mrs. Moseley informed him that the different grades ate at separate times and classes had to sit with themselves. Castiel had learned from context clues (and just a little snooping) that the boy from the pond was named Dean and the girl he’d come in with was his neighbor Lisa. They carpooled in the mornings, so sometimes they were late depending on whose dad drove. Castiel dreaded the idea that one day he would have to join the carpool with the two who, apparently, lived within walking distance to his dad’s house. He prayed that his father was unaware of the entire situation. 

The cafeteria was a cavernous room with green tables that matched the tile running throughout the school. Mrs. Moseley led the class to one of the long tables and had them sit down, letting the students who hadn’t brought their own lunches up two at a time to get trays. Castiel tried to sit by himself, but Lisa had brought lunch from home, and sat down across from him, waving Dean and Jo over when they returned with their school lunch trays. Dean took the seat next to Cas who inwardly and silently groaned. 

“So, where’d you come from?” Lisa asked unceremoniously, popping an apple slice into her mouth. 

Dean laughed, “Lis, that’s rude.” 

Lisa made a face at him and Dean mimicked it, but Castiel decided just to answer and maybe they’d leave him alone. “Portland.”

Jo smiled at him, “Did you like it there?” 

“I loved it,” Castiel confessed, eating a grape. 

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, earning a glare. “Well, Lawrence is the best place in the world, you’ll love it here too.” Castiel had to stop himself from scoffing. Lawrence, Kansas was definitely not the best place in the world. As of now, the only good things Lawrence even had to offer were the pond, which wasn’t even a secret, and Mrs. Moseley who was so sweet that Castiel physically couldn’t dislike her.

After lunch was over and Castiel had played twenty questions with the group he’d unwittingly infiltrated (favorite color? yellow. favorite food? cheeseburgers. favorite game? Connect 4.) they got to go outside for a brief twenty minutes filled with swinging and even more questions (who’s better, Batman or Superman? Batman. favorite fruit? grapes. like your mom or dad more? mom.) and then back inside they went for multiplication practice, the best part of Castiel’s day. By the time the clock hit 3:15, Castiel was exhausted. Being entertaining was too much work, and he longed for his real friends. All day had felt like an audition for a group he didn’t even really want to join. He didn’t have to perform with his friends in Portland, but here he felt out of place and unnatural. The other kids were nice, but they weren’t right for him. Something was wrong. 

Walking out to the pickup line, Gabriel intercepted him. "No go, Cassie," he said, trademark smirk permanently fixed to his mouth. "We ride the bus home." 

"But dad dropped us off," Castiel said. He could feel panic begin to pierce him and he felt like he might cry. The entire day had made him feel raw and tender, and now he had to ride the bus home? Talk about rubbing salt in the wound. 

"On his way to work," Gabe said like Castiel was stupid, "Come on, it won't be that bad. There are only a few stops ahead of ours, and Mikey got on at the high school." Castiel kicked the sidewalk with his toe, but he followed Gabriel back up to where the buses were loading. 

Bus twelve was god awful. Loud and smelly and packed wall to wall with kids as young as five and as old as eighteen. Castiel climbed on behind Gabriel who, once again, abandoned him to sit near the back by a few kids that Castiel recognized from pictures hung up in Gabriel’s bedroom. Castiel stalled in the aisle, feeling the driver’s growing disdain, sweating when he realized that there was a line of students forming behind him waiting to board the vehicle. From the center of the bus, a familiar face popped up just over the back of the seat in front of him. Dean, grinning, waved him over. Castiel took a breath, found himself thankful for Dean, and then pushed his way past bags in the aisle and outstretched arms to settle in next to Dean. 

“You ride this bus too?” Castiel asked, settling his backpack on his knees. 

“Yeah, Lisa stays after school for soccer practice so I take the bus home. I’m surprised you ride the bus,” Dean said, and while, in the wrong tone, the words would sound harsh and judgemental, Dean just sounded impressed. 

“I didn’t have to in Portland,” Castiel said looking past Dean to see out the window. 

“Oh,” Dean said, “That stinks, man, I’m sorry. But it isn’t too bad, and I’ll be on here for the first like six stops. We can be bus buddies.” 

Castiel looked to see if he was being serious, and he found the other boy’s eyes sincere but laced with mischief and it was enough to prompt a real smile from Castiel. “Okay, Dean,” Castiel said, leaning back against the graffitied seat. “Have you always lived here?” He asked after a few minutes of silence. 

Dean was fiddling with a shiny Matchbox car that he’d pulled out of his pocket, Castiel memorized the motions of the car on Dean’s knee. “Yeah, I was born here. My mom works at the hospital, she’s a nurse, and my dad owns the car shop with my uncle Bobby. Why did you move here?” 

“Oh,” Castiel said, meeting Dean’s too-green eyes, “I had to come live with my dad for a while.” 

“Really,” Dean asked, “I’m sorry. You must miss your mom.” 

Castiel paused before he said something too sad or started crying. He decided it would be rude not to say anything though, so he said, “Yeah, I do.” 

Dean hugged him then and it was unexpected but appreciated and Castiel tentatively hugged him back. Maybe Dean and his friends weren’t too bad. And he’d need to have at least a couple friends to make Kansas at least a little bit bearable. The bus made its next stop and Dean stood up, tugging his blue bag up from the floor. Castiel pressed closer to the seat to let Dean squeeze by him, but in merely a second, Gabriel was touching his arm and telling him to get up, Michael on his heels. Dean raised his eyebrows and shoulders and said, “You live on Elmwood too?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Castiel said awkwardly, putting on his bag and stepping down the stairs behind Dean. “My dad does.” 

“Cas, that’s so cool. We have to be  _ best  _ friends now, it’s like God or something,” Dean said excitedly, beaming. 

Castiel kind of laughed, “Best friends?” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, face light and expressive. “I’ve been playing with two girls for my whole life, I need you to be my best friend.” Castiel was acutely aware of Michael and Gabriel trailing behind the two of them, talking in hushed tones. He worried they would tease him, but Dean was still talking about all the things they could do together now that he knew how close Castiel lived. A list that included sleepovers and bike rides and walks to the park across the street. “Oh!” Dean said, “And there’s this really cool pond in the woods where we go swimming in the summer, it’s really cool, but it’s kind of a secret, so don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Okay, Dean,” Castiel said with a small smile. 


	2. He's Dating One of Your Friends

Castiel was laying on his back, sun beating down on his face, with his head resting on his arms, and Dean was sitting next to him, sharpening a stick to a point with the pocket knife his dad had given him for his fifteenth birthday, still new enough to be sharp. There was sweat collecting under the nosepiece of Castiel’s sunglasses, but the sun was so bright that he wouldn’t lift them to wipe it away. It was the middle of July, weeks away from Castiel’s sixteenth birthday, and he was flying to Portland in a few days to see his mom for the first time in months. Currently, the boys were waiting for Jo and Lisa to meet them at the pond where they’d be taking their last dip before Jo left to be a camp counselor for a group of wily thirteen year olds, and Lisa departed for a Kansas City cheerleading convention. 

“I don’t know why you guys all have to leave at once,” Dean said, squinting over at Cas. 

Castiel sighed and sat up, lifting his glasses into his hair and swiping under his eyes. He inspected his chest for a sunburn and then looked back at Dean and said, with a lopsided smile, “Well, we didn’t coordinate.” 

“C’mon, Cas, it’s going to suck here without you guys,” He groaned, frowning. 

“Jo will be back in a month, Lisa will come home on the third, and I’ll be back at some point, you know my dad won’t let me stay in Portland very long,” Cas said, swaying into Dean’s space. 

“I know, it just sucks that I’m never allowed to go anywhere,” Dean said, standing and peeling off his shirt, depositing it next to Castiel’s thighs. Castiel repositioned his sunglasses and looked up at his best friend, outlined by the sun. 

“But your dad’s giving you a job, right? That’ll be nice,” Cas said.

Dean shrugged, “Yeah, I guess. I’m just gonna miss you, man.” 

Castiel watched as Dean lined himself up with the edge of the pond, easing his left foot in before withdrawing it and then sitting down on one of the rocks, peering into the water below. “I’m going to miss you too, Dean.” Dean didn’t say anything for a minute so Castiel just studied him, not speaking either. 

"Yeah, whatever, you'll be having so much fun going to, what,  _ craft fairs? _ You won't even think about me." Dean said, only half joking. He picked up a small, flat stone and skipped it into the pond. 

"I always think about you," Castiel said, cheeks coloring the instant the sentence left him. Dean's hand stilled where he'd been searching for another rock, shoulders becoming tense. Cas hoped that the light sunburn he'd picked up helping with his dad's wife's garden was enough to mask his embarrassment. "I think about all of you guys," Cas added, mouth suddenly very dry, and head very empty. 

Dean relaxed, picking up the rock and tossing it over. "Yeah, man, our group's really the best." 

God bless Dean Winchester and his willingness to overlook Castiel's many, accidental declarations of love.

"Yeah, not many people have had the same friends this long," Cas said, finally laying back down, head turned toward the Sun and eyes closed behind his shades. He focused on breathing and the nature sounds around him accompanied by the splashing of water rippling from under the rocks Dean threw. 

It wasn't long before Jo and Lisa were pressing into the clearing, toting with them a small cooler and a battery operated CD player. "Hey, losers," Jo announced, grinning. 

Castiel sat up and swiveled to face them, "Sandwich me, Harvelle," he said, clapping. Jo laughed and opened the cooler, tossing him a saran wrapped turkey and cheese on rye which he immediately began to open. 

"He'll never say it," Dean began, "but he's in love with you Jo." 

Castiel took a bite of his sandwich and audibly moaned, "Make me an honest man, Joanna Beth." Jo laughed, rolling her eyes, and chucked her towel at his head, nailing him right above the eyebrow and unfolding over the top of his hair. Castiel pulled the towel down, glaring at her, without malice, and took another bite. 

Lisa shook her head, smiling in bemusement as she flipped through her cloth CD organizer, searching for the perfect album to serve as their background noise. "Sorry we were kind of late," she said, "Mom was having a coronary about letting me come out today because I'm leaving tomorrow." 

"Yeah," Jo added, "Lis had to do some serious swindling and her curfew still got dropped to ten o'clock." 

"Damn," Dean said, "that sucks," and he meant it. 

Lisa lifted a shoulder and said, "We'll worry about that later." She selected a CD and pulled it out with her fingertips, carefully avoiding the back of the disc, as she popped it into the CD player and hit play. Thumping bassline filled the air and Dean bobbed his head with the rhythm, which was as much of a compliment as he would give when someone else was in charge of the tunes. Lisa, who had been watching Dean's face for approval, smiled and then lowered herself down to sit in the grass next to Castiel. 

Dean watched her sit and then lowered himself from his rock into the water below, breathing out when it was cooler than he'd imagined. Jo joined Castiel and Lisa in the grass, prompting Dean to say, "Oh come  _ on _ ." 

" _ What _ ?" Jo asked, mockingly matching the desperation in Dean's voice. 

"Please tell me I'm not the only one who actually planned on swimming today," Dean elaborated, glaring at his friends. 

"I'll get in later," Jo said, rubbing sunscreen on her arms. 

"This was your venture," Castiel said, finishing his sandwich and then flipping over onto his stomach to tan his back. 

"Well fuck you," Dean said. "Lis? Come on, don't let me down." Lisa sighed and stood, tying her hair back with a purple scrunchie from around her wrist. "Yes!" Dean exclaimed. 

Lisa rolled her eyes, stepping out of her shoes. "You owe me, Dean, that water is filthy." 

"I'll make it up to you," Dean said, swimming back and unabashedly watching her wade in. 

Castiel looked away from him, deciding to look at Jo instead. She flashed him a sad smile and then said, "Keep it PG, guys, remember my sensibilities." 

God bless Jo Harvelle. 

"Your sensibilities mean shit, Jo. I saw you with your tongue down Ash's throat at the bowling alley last week," Lisa teased. 

"That's different," Jo said, laying down the same direction Cas was. 

"How's that different?" Dean laughed, taking Lisa's hands and pulling her through the water so that it splashed over her freckled shoulders. 

Jo hesitated in her response. She couldn’t exactly say the truth, which was that the difference was Castiel’s unwavering devotion and feelings for Dean that caused the observation of every action shared with Lisa to light within him a painful blaze of jealousy. “Ash is leaving for the summer,” she said.

“So am I,” Lisa said wrinkling her nose. 

“Lis, you’re leaving for the month, that’s different,” Jo said. 

“Cas, care to weigh in?” Lisa asked. 

“No,” Cas said quickly, “I’m not in the habit of getting involved with things that don’t concern me.” 

Dean laughed outright at that, “Yeah, okay  _ Debate Team _ .” 

“Shut up,” Castiel said, “I needed an outlet. We can’t all be wrestling stars.” Dean flashed him a winning smile. Wolfish and wild. It made Castiel feel unhinged. He looked away and hoped Dean wouldn’t question him. A wish that came true. 

Castiel hadn’t set out one day with the intention of falling for his best friend. After all, who would do something like that? It had happened naturally and accidentally. He just woke up one morning, looked at the other boy and thought, “I think I love you.” It was all very confusing. And complicated. Dean Winchester was just about the most heterosexual being Castiel had ever encountered (and  _ his  _ father was a Baptist preacher.) He just had this way of making Cas feel safe, in fact, he’s the only person in Lawrence, Kansas that ever felt like protection. Father and brothers be damned. Dean was like a security blanket, something to hide behind when things got to be too much, and he was always there for Castiel, whenever he needed him, when things inevitably fell apart, because Castiel was always too tender. Castiel decided two long years ago, back in seventh grade when he realized the nature of his feelings, never to act on what he felt for Dean. He couldn’t risk losing his best friend, couldn’t risk being ostracized by everyone he cared about. The only person he told was Jo and that’s only because she asked him point blank and he hesitated too long before answering. 

Cas stood and popped his back, moving his sunglasses into his hair again. “Are you excited to babysit for a month?” He asked Jo, dutifully switching the subject with one eyebrow raised. 

“Hey, shut up. I’m excited to  _ get paid _ for a month,” Jo replied. 

Lisa chimed in, turning to press her back against Dean’s front, “I wish  _ I  _ was getting paid.” 

“Oh, to what, be on TV?” Jo said. 

Lisa made a face at her and Castiel laughed. “We’re only going to be on TV on the second to last day. The rest is training and learning the routine.” Lisa’s voice was tight and nasal, but not to be confused with genuine anger.

Dean said, “That’s crazy but really cool. I mean, Lis, you’re the first of us to be on TV. I always thought it would be Cas.”

“Why did you just assume it would be me?” Castiel asked with a snort. 

Dean wrapped his arms around Lisa’s shoulders, holding her even closer. “I don’t know, man, you’re artsy and charismatic.” 

“I’m charismatic,” Jo said, splaying one hand over her heart in mock offense. 

Dean rolled his eyes, “Oh sure.” 

“I am!” Jo said indignantly. 

Castiel laughed, making unsure eye contact with Dean who winked at him and then pressed a kiss to Lisa’s temple. Castiel looked away. 


	3. You Have Other Options

Castiel’s bag’s zipper was broken, as if junior year wasn’t hard enough. He’d been losing pens and loose paper all day, and any complaints he made were matched with rolled eyes or laughter at his expense. Sometimes he had to remind himself that he liked his friends. Castiel navigated the chemistry lab, sliding into the seat next to his lab partner. 

He smiled at him and said, “Morning, Fergus.” 

Fergus looked up at him and said, “Good morning, Castiel.” Fergus was the only person who ever called Castiel by his whole name. In some ways, Castiel liked that. It reminded him of Portland, a place he only sometimes visited. “I was meaning to talk to you.” 

“Oh?” Castiel asked, reaching into his open bag to pull out his chemistry notebook. 

“I’ve decided to start going by another name,” Fergus said politely, though most things he said were polite, “Crowley. I’d appreciate it if you’d be the first to use it.” 

“Oh, um, of course,  _ Crowley _ ,” Castiel replied with a somewhat awkward smile. Crowley smiled too, and then turned back to his notebook where he was doodling dark circles in the margins of the page. 

Cas leaned in his seat a little, scanning the room to see if Dean had come in yet. He and Castiel had started the semester as partners, but due to Dean’s mouth and Castiel’s desire to absorb every utterance, their teacher Mr. Walker had separated them. Castiel had gotten, in his opinion, the worst part of the exchange, but Fergus was sweet, if not a little weird. Currently, Dean was seated at one of the long tables next to a guy on the football team, Benny Lafitte, who was laughing loudly. Castiel was a little jealous, but instead of doing something stupid, he turned towards Crowley. 

“I like your drawings,” Castiel said and Crowley looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. “Are they for anything or just for fun?” 

Crowley made a face, “I’m trying to come up with a logo for my band.” 

“Oh!” Castiel said enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were in a band.” 

“Yeah,” Crowley said with a smirk, “we’re called the Kings of Hell.” 

“That’s really cool, Crowley,” Castiel told him honestly. He glanced to the front of the room where Dean was cracking another joke, to which Benny responded with raucous laughter. Cas could use a distraction, so,“I’d love to listen to you play sometime.” 

“Well,” Crowley said, “we’d love to have you.” He paused a moment and then said, “ _ I’d _ love to have you.” Castiel blinked, face flushing. “We’re getting together later to jam, maybe I could pick you up, play a little, take you home after?” 

Castiel’s mouth felt suddenly very dry. Hadn’t this been what he was hoping for only a few minutes ago? Something to take away from thinking about Dean? That’s why he’d mentioned wanting to listen to the Kings of Hell in the first place. “Sure,” Castiel said before he could overthink it. “That sounds like fun.” 

“Then we agree,” Crowley said with a grin, “I’ll pick you up around seven?”

“Sure, yes,” Castiel said, jotting his address down on a piece of paper that he ripped out and handed to Crowley. 

Crowley looked at the address for a moment and then folded the paper into a small square and tucked it into the inside pocket of his black coat. “Excellent,” Crowley said, and the rest of the hour passed without incident. 

At lunch Castiel liked to go to his locker and prepare his books for the rest of the day. He would file the things he’d used in the morning away, and stick the afternoon materials into his broken bag. When he went to close the door of his locker, he jumped, seeing Dean’s face close to his. His best friend was looking at him closely, eyes narrowed, jaw set. “Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Tell me it’s not true,” Dean said, frowning. 

“Tell you  _ what  _ isn’t true?” Castiel asked, draping his bag over his shoulder. 

“Tell me you’re not going out with  _ Fergus MacLeod  _ tonight.” 

“Eight years and I’ve never lied to you, Dean. I won’t start now.”

“Really, Cas?  _ Freaky Fergus? _ ” Dean groaned.

“Come on, Dean, that’s not nice,” Castiel said, giving him a withering look. 

“Nice or not, that guy’s weird, and he’s no good for you,” Dean told him. 

"Have you ever actually spoken to him?" Castiel asked, one eyebrow arched high. 

"Well, no, but--"

"He's smart and sweet," Castiel said, "what's more important than that?" 

"Cas, don't do this, you deserve someone better. Someone like--" 

"Someone like who, Dean?" Castiel asked. He knew what he wanted to hear. He wanted Dean to say he deserved someone like  _ him _ . Someone who  _ was _ him. And then maybe they'd kiss. Ride off into the sunset. 

_ God _ , he was pathetic. 

Dean hesitated, "I… well, I don't know, Cas. Someone cooler than him. He's, like, kind of scary. I think he worships Satan or something." 

Castiel rolled his eyes, "Fergus MacLeod doesn't worship Satan. He's just a little goth." 

Castiel swiveled on his heel and started towards the cafeteria, Dean hot on his heels. “Cas, come on, I mean, you’re the best guy I know. You deserve the best, and the best isn’t Fergus fucking MacLeod.” 

Castiel gave him a look over his shoulder. “He’s going by Crowley now.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean barked, “you have to know that’s absolutely ridiculous.” 

Cas shrugged, “Who am I to say that his preference is ridiculous?” 

Dean rolled his eyes, gesticulating wildly. “Come  _ on.  _ You won’t even admit that his stupid nickname is stupid?” Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm, causing him to stop in his tracks. By this time, the halls were devoid of other students, and, now that they were facing one another, Dean was standing so close that Castiel could feel Dean’s breath on his face. “Cas,” Dean said quietly, and Castiel hoped he wasn’t imagining the soft look in Dean’s eyes. “Don’t go out with him.” Castiel stared at Dean. All he would have to say is that he loved him, and Castiel would call the whole thing off. “Please.” 

“I--” Castiel began, but he stopped abruptly when Dean looked down at Castiel’s mouth. Cas didn’t know what to do. If his life were a movie, he would kiss Dean and it would be easy. They would be together and they could figure everything out after that. Dean’s hand tightened on Castiel’s elbow and, almost imperceptibly, his head tilted. But this wasn’t a movie, and Castiel didn’t want it like this. “Dean,” was all he said, and he said it gently. Just like that, Dean’s eyes snapped back to Castiel’s and he dropped Castiel’s arm like it burned him. 

“Come on,” Dean said, “Lisa and Jo are waiting for us.”

This time when they started walking, Dean took the lead. Castiel let him. 

Dean and Castiel weaved through the cafeteria, making their way outside to the courtyard where their group usually sat for lunch, today accompanied by their new friend Charlie. “Hey guys,” Jo greeted with a smile, folding her hands over her bag of chips when Dean made a play for one. 

Lisa looked at them and raised an eyebrow. “You guys look weird. What happened?” 

“Nothing happened,” Dean said defensively. Waiting just a second too long to add a laugh. 

Castiel didn’t spare him a glance, pulling a chair over to sit between Jo and Charlie. “ _ Okay, _ ” Jo said, “well  _ that  _ was suspicious as hell.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and patted Lisa’s arm so she would stand and give up her chair - which she did before gracefully perching on his lap. “We got caught up in the hall,” Castiel explained. “He wigged out because I’m going to hang out with Fergus MacLeod later.” 

“He’s just weird,” Dean said at the same time Jo asked, “Like a date?”

“No,” Castiel said, meeting Dean’s eyes across the table. “Not like a date. I’m just going to listen to his band play.” 

Dean rested his head on Lisa’s back, glaring at the wall so he didn’t have to look at Castiel anymore. Castiel could still feel his heart pounding in his throat. Mind reeling. If he’d stayed quiet in the hall, what would have happened? Had Dean intended to kiss him? Their conversation had been desperate, but Cas didn’t think anything of it really. Sometimes Dean whined at him, but surely never because he wanted to kiss him. 

“Sounds kind of like a date to me,” Lisa teased, biting into a baby carrot and wiggling her perfect, dark eyebrows. 

Castiel rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest, so he was subject to more comments. (“Didn’t think goth guys were your type.” “Do you really want to listen to heavy metal vomit and then get felt up in a station wagon? ‘Cause if you do go tonight, that’s totally happening.” “What happened to high school is for learning, not dating?” and “At least promise you’ll stay  _ normal _ .”)

By the time their lunch hour was up, Dean was back to being himself, laughing and joking and looking at Cas just a little too long, but Castiel still felt out of his mind. After lunch, he had AP Language with Charlie, so they walked together. “Are you okay?” She asked him after a moment. 

Castiel answered, “Yeah, I’m alright.” 

She nodded and lifted a shoulder, “Well, if you decide you don’t want to go out tonight, you can come to my place and watch Star Trek with Jo and I,” she offered. 

Castiel smiled at her, “Thanks, Charlie.” 

She smiled back, “By the way, I like Crowley, and it’s nice that you’re moving past Dean.” 

Castiel said sadly, “I wouldn’t say I’m past him.”

“But you’re trying,” She said, “and that’s a step in the right direction.” They entered the room and then took their seats, side by side. “I think going on a date will be good for you.”

“Yeah,” Cas said, “I hope so.” 

Crowley picked Castiel up at exactly seven o’clock, rolling up to his house and honking instead of coming to the door. Castiel grabbed his jacket, slipping it on as he closed the door, and heading to the station wagon parked on the curb. Crowley smiled at him as he slid into the passenger seat, tossing a cursory glance in the backseat where Crowley’s bass guitar case laid across the seats. At the self proclaimed jam sesh, Castiel learned that The Kings of Hell were exactly what Jo had said they would be. Mediocre heavy metal vomit. However, Castiel enjoyed the change of pace from the rock music Dean listened to exclusively. On the ride back to Castiel’s house, Crowley rested his hand on Castiel’s thigh, and Castiel’s stomach started to hurt. Crowley parked down the street from Castiel’s house, just a few feet from Dean’s front door, and the irony just made Cas feel sicker. 

“I’m really glad you came to listen to us tonight, Castiel,” Crowley said, accent dripping into and coating Castiel’s ears. 

“Thank you for inviting me,” Castiel replied. 

Crowley turned in his seat to look at Castiel, reaching across with one hand to touch Castiel’s upper arm. Cas tried to relax. Charlie was right, this was good for him. He shouldn’t have to spend his whole life pining over Dean. Crowley moved closer, eyes focused squarely on Castiel’s mouth. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better,” Crowley said and Castiel felt himself start to sweat. 

“Crowley,” Castiel said, testing the name on his lips. It didn’t feel right. And he still felt kind of sick, similar to the way he felt when he was guilty about something, which didn’t make any kind of sense. Crowley looked at him hungrily, eyes dark. “I, uh…” Castiel paused, leaning back against the door. 

“Castiel,” Crowley growled, hand closing on Castiel’s wrist. “I’d like to kiss you. I’ve wanted to for months now.” 

“Oh,” Castiel said. He’d never been kissed in Kansas, and the thought of Crowley being his first made him feel like running. “Well, I--”

“Can I?” Crowley interrupted. 

Castiel felt flighty and panicked. “Oh, I, um,” Crowley leaned across the seat, mouth inches from Castiel’s. “Actually,” Cas said, albeit too loudly, “I need to get going.” Crowley furrowed his eyebrows, but leaned back, giving Castiel back his space. Cas put his hand on the door handle, fingers shaking. 

“Your house is down the road,” Crowley reminded him, a question prevalent in his voice, “at least let me drive you.” 

“It’s okay,” Cas said with an apologetic smile, “I could use the air.” Castiel opened the door, tumbling out with absolutely zero amount of grace. 

“Oh, alright,” Crowley said. 

Castiel closed the door and leaned down to say, through the window, “I did have a nice time. Your band sounded great.”

“Thank you,” Crowley said uncomfortably. Cas attempted a smile that almost definitely looked pained, and took a step back, onto the cracked sidewalk. Crowley sped off down the road, station wagon operating past what the speed limit allowed. 

Castiel threw his head back and sighed at the sky.  _ God,  _ he was such a fucking loser. He took a deep breath and then started for Dean’s front door. He knocked, hands shaking and feeling somehow both hot and cold. In just a moment, Sam - Dean’s younger brother - opened the door, smiling easily when he noticed it was Castiel. 

“Hey, Cas,” He greeted kindly, pushing his hair back from his face. 

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel said, “is Dean here?”

“Yeah,” Sam told him, “he’s upstairs.” He sidestepped to let Castiel come inside. 

“Thank you,” Castiel said. 

Growing up, the Winchester household had been his second home - well third if you counted Portland, but now, more often than not, Castiel didn’t. He had spent holidays and birthdays and other grand life events with the Winchesters, but, for some reason, ascending the stairs at that moment felt like running a losing race. He had to grip the banister to keep his feet steady. Castiel knocked on Dean’s closed door, taking a deep breath when Dean gruffly told him to enter. Dean’s bedroom had looked the same since he was a kid. Even now, the same sports and music posters adorned the walls. 

Dean sat up, “Cas? I thought you had a date with Fergus tonight.” 

“I did,” Castiel answered, closing the door behind him. 

“Early night,” Dean observed. 

Castiel hesitated. He really wished he wasn’t with Dean right now, but his other alternative was home, and that was a no fly zone at the moment. “He tried to kiss me. I kind of freaked out.” 

Dean was looking at him with wide, sympathetic eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

“So am I,” Cas apologized, “I know it’s weird to talk to you about this. It’s just that Jo is at Charlie’s across town and Lisa and I really aren’t that close.” 

“Cas, man, you can talk to me about whatever,” Dean said earnestly, grabbing Castiel’s arm and pulling him down to sit with him on his bed. “I’m really sorry your date didn’t pan out.” His voice was genuine and sensitive, and it made Castiel feel like swooning. 

“It wasn’t even supposed to be a date,” Castiel complained, but Dean shot him a look, so he said, “okay, fine, it was.”

“Sometimes things don’t go the way we think,” Dean said, shrugging. 

“I know.”  _ Trust me.  _

“Well hey,” Dean began, knocking him on the shoulder and giving him a winning smile, “Fergus or not, you’ve always got me.” 

And that was just the problem. 

“Oh, and hey,” Dean said leaning over the side of his bed, “I picked this up on my way home from the shop.” Proudly, Dean produced a green backpack. Emphasizing the working zipper, Dean said, “Now maybe you’ll stop complaining about losing highlighters or whatever.” 


	4. You'll Just Get Him Into Trouble

It was the breakup of the century. One for the history books. A real, certified Childhood Dream Destroyer. Dean had been laying, face down, on Castiel’s bed for over three hours. He’d gone from crying to anger to the stoic, stony silence that gripped the room now. In fact, he’d been quiet for so long that Castiel almost wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Castiel had called over to Harvelle’s Roadhouse and alerted Jo to the situation, so she was heading over to his house, but she was across town, so it was just the two of them 

“Why would she break up with me?” Dean asked suddenly, voice muffled by Castiel’s bedspread. Cas jumped, but didn’t immediately answer, so Dean continued. “I mean, how could she just implode our whole friendship like that.” 

Castiel made a face, but said, “I don’t know.” He could understand it a little bit though. Dean was sweet of course, and kind, but rough around the edges with just a hint of arrogance and a crippling case of White Knight Syndrome that made it hard just to be his friend sometimes, let alone his popular, beautiful girlfriend. 

Dean sat up, turning to look at Cas where he was slowly spinning in his desk chair. “All she said was that I seemed bored with her. I mean, she even told me she still loved me. What the hell is that about?” 

Castiel frowned at him, “I’m sorry, Dean.” 

Dean scratched his hair. “This is going to ruin everything. I had a whole plan.” 

“Did Lisa know the plan?” Castiel asked. 

Dean faltered, “I-- we’d never really talked about it, but I figured she knew I had one.” 

“Hm,” Castiel said, staring up at the ceiling and spinning again. 

Dean was quiet for a moment and then he sighed and asked, “When is Jo getting here?”

Just as Castiel opened his mouth to reply, his door swung open and Jo entered, carrying two plastic bags. “Okay, my boy,” she said, “I’ve got sad movies, ice cream, and three spoons.” Castiel looked at her, eyes full of admiration. She truly was the best of them. “Let’s grieve,” She concluded, closing the door and crossing the floor to wrap Dean in a hug. 

The three of them were sitting in a semicircle on Castiel’s floor, eyes turned toward the TV screen Castiel’s father had hesitantly agreed to let them borrow for the night. They were watching some movie that Jo’s mom had recommended from the early 70’s, a few years before they were born, but none of them were really paying attention. Conversation had dominated their evening. 

“You know,” Jo began, “this might not be such a bad thing. It could give you a chance to be with someone else.” 

“Or be with yourself,” Castiel interjected, “work on making yourself happy.” Jo smiled at him, and he took a bite of the mint chocolate chip ice cream Dean had passed him. 

“You guys are right,” Dean said sadly, “but I’ve always been with Lisa. She’s always been a part of the group. One of… one of the guys,” he trailed off. Castiel and Jo shared a look. “Holy shit,” Dean gasped breathlessly. “I don’t think I’ve ever really treated her like a girlfriend. I’ve always just acted like she was either of you. Just a friend.” 

_ Okay, ouch.  _

“God,” Dean said, mouth full of oreo ice cream, “I was such a terrible boyfriend.” 

Jo said, “But you’re a great friend. She’s never questioned that you love her.” Jo passed Castiel the strawberry ice cream and, in turn, Castiel gave her his. 

“That’s not good enough,” Dean said. “Not for Lisa. Not for  _ anyone. _ ” He looked at Castiel desperately. “Cas, what do I do?” 

Castiel thought for a second, licking his spoon clean. He was staring into Dean’s eyes and then said, very seriously, “All you  _ can  _ do is be better next time.” Jo gave them a wordless smile and Dean nodded slowly before reaching for the carton of strawberry in Castiel’s hands. 

For a breakup so initially painful, their lives didn’t change much. Jo still worked at her mom’s restaurant and had Star Trek dates with Charlie, occasionally accompanied by Dean and Castiel, just like old times. Cas continued to avoid Crowley and study harder than anyone else at Lawrence Public High. Dean still tinkered with cars and told unfunny jokes. And they all still went to Dean’s wrestling meets and took weekend outings to the mall or the theater or the pond behind Castiel’s house. They just did it all without Lisa. When they’d broken up, it seemed that there had been some unspoken agreement in which Dean got to keep Jo and Castiel, and Lisa moved on like she’d never known them in the first place. Jo once told Castiel that it was because she assumed it would be too painful for her to see them and know they preferred time with Dean, but Castiel had his suspicions that she was just kind of a bitch. 

It was a Friday when it happened. Jo had left for the weekend for a girls softball tournament, and Charlie had gone with the yearbook committee to take pictures, so Dean and Cas were eating lunch alone. Dean had just stood up to throw his trash away, when Alistair Stullman, the quarterback on the football team, shoulder checked him. “Watch it, fag,” Alistair growled. 

Dean stiffened, “What the hell did you say to me?” 

Castiel rose from his seat, standing just over Dean’s shoulder and glaring at Alistair. “I said ‘watch it,’  _ faggot, _ ” he repeated, leaning closer to Dean. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Alistair.”

“Or what, twinkle toes?”

“Or I’ll total you, man,” Dean threatened. 

Alistair laughed, “In front of your girlfriend?” 

Dean glanced over his shoulder at Castiel, frown deepening. “Fuck you.” 

“No thanks, I’m not a fairy,” Alistair said. 

Castiel rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder, “It’s not worth it,” he said softly, “let’s just go.” Dean hesitated for a second, glancing at Castiel over his shoulder. 

“Listen to your girlfriend, Winchester. I’d hate to waste you in front of him,” Alistair sneered. 

And  _ that’s  _ when Dean lunged at him, fist connecting with his jaw. Alistair was on him in nothing flat, fists flying. Dean easily flipped him, placing him in an arm bar. But Alistair broke free and pinned him, throwing punches. Castiel acted quickly (and stupidly) and grabbed Alistair’s arm as he pulled up to strike Dean again. For a moment, Dean locked eyes with Castiel, and in them was terror, but not for himself. Castiel didn’t see Alistair lift his arm and hit him, but one moment he was fine, and the next, there was pain blossoming across his cheek and shooting through his skull like a bullet. Dean called out to him, but Cas couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears. The fight only lasted a few seconds more before Mrs. Bunce and Mr. Sho were breaking it apart, sending both parties to the principal’s office and Castiel to the nurse. Because Castiel was such a good student and he’d only been trying to break it up, his only punishment was being sent home early for the weekend. Dean, however, faced a week’s suspension and was pulled from the lineup for that weekend’s wrestling meet. 

Castiel waited for Dean in the parking lot, but Dean didn’t look happy to see him. “Dean,” Castiel began, breathless, “are you alright?” 

“Fine,” Dean grunted, but already bruises were taking up a portion of his beautiful face, and his lip was busted and oozing. He paused for a second, looking hard at Cas, “You look like shit.” 

Cas reached up and tenderly touched the bruising space under his right eye, “I’m okay.” 

“Good,” Dean said, and then after a moment, “that was really fucking stupid. You’re smart enough to know better.”

“I thought maybe it would get him to stop,” Castiel explained, feeling like a child in trouble with his father. 

Dean snorted, “Get in the car.” 

Castiel looked from Dean’s Impala to Dean himself. He had planned on taking Gabriel’s car home and picking him up when the day was over, but Dean hadn’t been asking, so Cas opened the door and got in, trying, subtly, to deeply inhale the familiar, comforting smell of leather and oil and aftershave that was practically so  _ Dean Winchester  _ that it hurt. “Gabe would understand if I took his car,” Cas said when Dean got in. 

“Don’t be dumb,” Dean scolded, so Castiel quieted down. They drove in silence for a while before Dean spoke again. “You know Alistair started that because of you.”

Castiel felt his stomach drop and his face get hot. Coming out to his friends had been the hardest thing Cas had ever done, but Dean had never attacked him for it. He’d never blamed Castiel for feeling the way he felt. Sure, not everyone had been accepting, and some had been downright mean, but never Dean. And no one had ever really been violent towards him, aside from the occasional slur and shove into lockers as he went down the hallway. “Oh,” Castiel said nervously. 

Dean’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Apparently, Lisa told some of the football guys that she broke up with me because I’m in love with  _ you _ .” Dean didn’t look at him. Castiel felt his heart in his throat and his hands went numb. Suddenly, his black eye hurt a lot worse. “I don’t know why she’d say something like that,”  _ maybe because it’s true,  _ “I mean, Lisa knows me better than almost anyone.”  _ Not better than I do _ , Castiel thought. Dean did look at him then, with his eyebrows furrowed and knuckles white. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel said. 

“She knows I’m not gay,” Dean said, and then quickly, “not that it matters that  _ you  _ are.” 

_ Right.  _ “I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said, and he meant it. He’d never wanted to get Dean in a bad situation. Dean worked his jaw, staring at the road in uneasy silence. Castiel pointed his attention out the window. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Dean made a noncommittal noise and then pushed the button on the radio, Pink Floyd filling the speakers. “I know,” Cas began, “it isn’t always easy being my friend because I’m,  _ you know _ , but I’ve always appreciated you.” 

“Cas,” Dean sighed, “it’s not hard to be your friend.” Castiel looked over at him and found his eyes, sad, looking at the road ahead. 

“Thank you,” Cas said, “Dean, for everything.”

Dean glanced over at him but quickly looked away, “Shut up, man,” he said. 

Castiel did. 


	5. His Friendship is Your Priority

Castiel was laying in bed staring at the ceiling. It had been five days since Dean’s fight with Alistair, and Dean was in his third official day of suspension. School had been hell without him there, cracking jokes and talking shit. Jo and Charlie had gotten home on Sunday and Castiel had explained the entire situation to them, and they agreed with Cas, finally, that Lisa was a bitch. 

Currently, it was almost midnight, and Castiel had just stopped studying for his calculus exam. He sat up when, at his window, he heard a noise. It sounded like tapping which was a bit of a concern, because, essentially, his room was the attic. He rose out of bed and crossed the floor quickly, wondering instead if he should wake his father. He slid the window open and looked around, identifying a figure in a jacket standing in the yard.

It was Dean, and he raised a hand and waved. Castiel waved back a little confused. Seeing him was like taking a deep breath for the first time in days. Dean pointed over his shoulder, towards the trail that led to the pond. In recognition, Cas lifted a finger and closed the window, retreating and grabbing his shoes which he would slip on when he got outside. Castiel padded downstairs, pausing near his father’s bedroom door until he heard him snoring. Castiel went out through the back door, located in the kitchen, sure to leave it unlocked. By the time he was outside, Dean was already gone, so Castiel put on his shoes and hurried down the trail. 

Castiel carefully stepped through the moonlight into the clearing around the pond, sighing when he saw Dean sitting with his jeans rolled to his shins and his feet in the water. “Dean,” he said, “what are you doing?” 

Dean looked at him and said quietly, “I needed to see you.” 

Castiel hesitated before toeing off his shoes and approaching Dean. He sat down beside him, dangling his feet in the water, and then resting his head in his hands. Castiel dropped his hands down by his knees and said, “Why?” 

Dean ignored his question and said, “I can’t get out of the house during the day because mom has had me on lockdown pretty much since the whole Alistair thing. I just… I had to see you.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow and looked away, worry clawing up his chest, “Oh.”

Dean kicked up the water watching it splash up and settle on his jeans. Some dripped onto Castiel’s knees but he didn’t speak, instead just letting it soak into his skin. “Cas,” Dean said, but quickly he stopped and looked into the trees beyond the pond. “Cas,” he tried again, voice serious. “What if… what if Lisa was right?” Castiel flinched, sure that he misheard. He snapped his head over, eyes landing on Dean’s shadowed profile. He was intently focused on the rippling pond water, breathing heavily, chest rising and falling too quickly. “I mean,” he started again, “What if she could see something that I just couldn’t.” 

“Dean,” Castiel said emphatically. 

“She knows me,” Dean said without acknowledging that Castiel had even spoken. 

“Dean,” Castiel repeated, “she wasn’t trying to help you see something. If that was her intention, she would’ve spoken to you privately. She was trying to trash your reputation.” 

Dean did look at him then, a crease between his brows. “Why would she do that?” 

Castiel shrugged, “I don’t know.” 

“She’s our friend,” Dean replied defensively. 

Castiel nodded, “She used to be.” 

Dean took his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes cut away. “But what if she is right? What if I am… Cas, what if I do…?” He looked up at Castiel, eyes nervous and soft. 

Castiel took a deep breath and willed his face not to flush red. “Then… then we’ll figure that out together.” He squeezed Dean’s shoulder. “Nothing you could do or be would change how I think of you, Dean.”  _ Perfect.  _

Dean looked away, back at the water, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “How  _ do  _ you think of me, Cas?” 

“Dean?” Castiel felt cold anxiety creeping through his whole body. He’d never considered that he’d ever have to explain himself to Dean, he’d been so careful to hide his feelings. 

Dean shook his head and then said, “Sorry. That’s crazy. I shouldn’t do that to you, I know we’re just friends.” He looked at Castiel and then just as quickly looked away, “If it was different you’d have told me.” Castiel didn’t confirm or deny Dean’s suspicions, instead opting to let his words die in the air. “Cas, I know this is a lot, but… just knowing you’re here for me - and Jo and Charlie - it just means a lot. I’m sorry Lisa leaving me meant leaving you guys too.” 

“Dean,” Castiel said, “you’re my best friend.” Dean looked at him, a certain fondness clear in his eyes, “Lisa leaving isn’t something you can blame yourself for. She made that choice. As for Jo, Charlie, and I, we’re not going anywhere.” He leaned closer, “You couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.” 

For the first time in their conversation, Dean cracked a smile. “Shut up, man.” 

Castiel tried to laugh. Tried to stall the aching in his chest and the rapid thoughts spilling through his mind. He said, “Do you want to stay tonight?” 

Dean hesitated before he answered, “I shouldn’t.” Castiel opened his mouth to speak again but before he had the chance, Dean said, “Mom will be up early for work and she’ll check to make sure I’m there.” 

“Okay,” Castiel said, “well, hey, I’ll see if Jo and Charlie want to run by tomorrow and bring you the work you’re missing. Mary can’t say no to us if we have homework.” 

Dean smiled again and said, “Yeah, Cas. Thanks.” 


	6. He Doesn't Know What He Wants

Castiel shifted his weight and navigated the crowded kitchen, holding his drink close to his chest. He hated parties, but Dean and Jo had strongarmed him into coming to at least one before graduation and when better than prom night. His tie was loose around his neck and when he rounded the corner into the living room, someone tugged on it, stopping him. In an instant, he was nose to nose with a very drunk Lisa Braeden. Her hair hung in tight curls, prom queen crown affixed crookedly to her head. The front of her dress was sparkly and adorned with a faux silk sash, “Cassie!” She exclaimed.

Cas raised an eyebrow, “Lisa? Hi. Congratulations,” he motioned to her sash with his cup, bringing it to his lips for something to do before almost instantly regretting the wash of alcohol over his tongue. 

“Thanks!” She laughed clutching it with her right hand and lifting her own cup in greeting. “I didn’t think you’d come. How are you?” 

Castiel observed her for a moment, taking in her eyes, blown wide but still breathtakingly beautiful. “I’m fine, how are you?” He returned. Every inch of himself wanted to wretch away from the conversation and go back to his search for his real friends. The ones he’d surely be able to find if only he could get back to looking. 

“I’m great!” She said, snorting a laugh and then leaning forward. “Is Dean here?” 

“Somewhere,” Castiel said, noncommittally. “Why?” 

“He owes me a kiss!” She said, “He promised when we were twelve he’d kiss me at prom and this is the last one we’ve got.” 

Castiel made a face, scrunching his nose and yet somehow staring down it at her. “You broke up with him, he’s not going to kiss you.” 

She buzzed her lips together and waved her free hand between them, “That’s such old news. He’ll kiss me. It’s not like you two are actually together.” 

Castiel bit back a harsh response because, while what he had said was true, her statement was too. If Lisa did manage to find Dean, there was no doubt that he would kiss her if she asked, and, again, she was right, they weren’t together. Castiel smoothed a hand down his front and said, “Actually, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find Charlie.” 

“You’re still friends with Charlie?” Lisa asked, “That’s sweet. I guess you guys do have to stick together, you know,” She leaned closer and whispered, “ _ queers _ .” 

Castiel narrowed his eyes. He could tell that Lisa hadn’t meant it as an insult, but somehow that made it worse. “Right,” Castiel said, “I’ll see you around.” 

Lisa pursed her lips and took a drink but she let him go, calling after him, “If you see Dean send him my way!” 

So Castiel added that to the list of things he was  _ not doing _ . 

He found Charlie sitting outside, with her dress fanned out on the ground around her like she’d been placed, from the sky, onto the middle of the patio. He assumed it was a makeshift perimeter. She brightened when she saw him, pulling her dress over so Castiel could sit beside her. Cas offered her his drink and she took it from him, taking a drink and then handing it back to him. “Have you seen Dean and Jo?” Castiel asked her. The music from inside was pumping quietly through the air, muffled by the closed door, and around the side of the house, Cas could hear a group of people talking and laughing and, at least one girl, singing. 

Charlie shook her head, “Not since we got here.”

Castiel hummed and said, “Typical,” and Charlie laughed. 

“Yeah, but we love them,” She said, giving him a sad kind of smile. 

Castiel nodded, “I hate parties.”

“Cheers,” Charlie sighed, stealing his cup and taking another sip. Castiel let her keep it. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Castiel asked, “We could go hang at the pond or something.” 

Charlie said, “More than anything,” and started to stand. Castiel got to his feet and helped her up. “We should find them though,” she said. 

Castiel said, “Damn your kind heart.” 

Charlie laughed again and said, “I’ll look for Jo, you take Dean.” 

“Sure,” Castiel sighed, “Meet me back at the Impala when you can.” Charlie saluted him with one hand and then dumped the remaining contents of the cup into the grass. 

Castiel gripped the door handle and headed back inside, sweating the moment the warmth from the house hit him. He traversed the kitchen and living room, scanning for any sign of his best friend, to no avail. When he bumped into a girl named Rachel, she asked if he was looking for Dean and, against his better judgement, he said yes. She directed him upstairs and he took a deep breath before ascending the corner staircase. 

Castiel wasn’t stupid, he knew what happened upstairs at parties, and he braced himself for anything he might see. He pushed open the first door he came to, and immediately closed the door, Dean wasn’t there and he didn’t need to see anything that wasn’t what he came for. On the second door, he knocked and from the other side, he heard Dean say, “Go away.” He sighed and wished he could do just that. 

“Dean?” He said uncomfortably. 

“Shit,” he heard, and it wasn’t Dean this time, but still a voice he recognized. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing the door open. 

“Lisa.” 

“Fuck,” Dean said. 

Lisa’s dress was hiked up around her thighs, and Dean was bent over her, shirt unbuttoned and jacket in a heap on the floor. Lisa looked upset to be disturbed but Dean looked absolutely wrecked. Castiel couldn’t speak. He knew his face felt hot but he couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or anger or jealousy or some mix of the three. Castiel took a step back at the same time as Dean deftly snapped his shirt buttons back together. Dean went for his jacket on the floor but by the time Dean had righted himself, Castiel was back on the stairs. Behind him, he could hear Lisa say “Are you  _ really _ going after  _ him _ ? _ I’m _ right here.” 

The party felt like a labyrinth, and Castiel felt trapped there. He could hear Dean, just a few feet behind, calling out to him, but Cas didn’t stop moving towards the door. Charlie and Jo were probably waiting for him, but they were waiting at Dean’s car, so he’d swing by and tell them he felt sick or something and head home. He’d barely cleared the patio when Dean caught his wrist and said, “Cas,  _ stop. _ ” 

Castiel turned toward him, commanding his composure with everything he had. “So you and Lisa, just like old times?” He asked. He knew he sounded cold and angry, but it’s because he was, and he didn’t have it in him to care. He found himself wishing he’d drank more than a few sips at the party. Maybe it would numb everything or make it hard enough to hold in his feelings that he’d just confess everything and then he could avoid Dean until he left for university in the fall. After all, it had worked with Crowley. 

“No! I mean, yeah… I mean  _ maybe, _ ” Dean said quickly, voice layered in so many ways that Castiel couldn’t tell what he was thinking. 

“Well, good for you, I guess. Have fun,” Castiel said. He felt like he was bristling up and stiffening. It was hard for him to even look at Dean. He tried to turn away. 

“Cas, I’m really drunk, just wait. Slow down,” he grabbed Castiel’s sleeve, wrinkling the cheap material with his grip. Castiel stared at him. He could feel his eyes starting to fill and maybe if he’d been drinking he could blame it on alcohol, but he’d promised to be designated driver, and even if he hadn’t he’d only been drunk twice so Dean would know he was lying. “What happened with Lisa didn’t mean anything.” 

“Why are you defending it to me?” Castiel asked, trying to keep his voice level and his head clear. 

“Because you’re mad at me. Because I don’t know,” Dean grabbed a fistful of his own hair, “I hate when you’re mad at me.” 

“Dean, I just think it’s a little stupid to be doing that with Lisa. That breakup almost ruined you.”

“She said I--”

“Owed you a kiss,” Castiel finished, “I know. But you can say no.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so angry,” Dean said, pulling himself closer to Castiel and taking him by the elbow. 

Castiel took a deep breath and tried to calm his temper so he wouldn’t say something stupid like  _ I love you,  _ that’s  _ why.  _ “I’m angry because of what she did to you.” 

“I don’t think that’s it,” Dean said, lifting his chin. 

“Don’t make this about me,” Castiel said, jerking his arm back. 

“It’s always about you,” Dean said, “ _ Fuck _ . I didn’t mean that--” 

“Go back up to Lisa,” Castiel said, crossing his arms and taking a step back. 

“No. I don’t want to,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“You looked like you wanted to be there,” Castiel snapped. 

“I did. I mean, I didn’t. I mean--” 

“What  _ do  _ you want, Dean?” 

Dean looked at Castiel, hands open by his sides. “I… I don’t know.” 

"You need to figure it out." 

"I thought you said we'd figure it out  _ together _ ." 

Castiel stared at him for a second. He remembered the conversation clearly, it was the night Dean had entertained the idea of having feelings for him. It was over a year ago though, and Cas had assumed Dean had forgotten it the moment it happened. It caught him off guard, and he staggered back a step. He didn't know that  _ that's _ what they'd been talking about. 

"We will." 

"Which is it, Cas?" Dean asked. Instead of sounding angry though, he sounded wounded and confused. 

"I'm always here for you, Dean." Castiel told him. Dean reached for him again, and Cas let him touch his shoulders. He could feel his heartbeat in his face and ears and throat. He wanted to pull away and crawl closer at the same time, but instead he stayed completely still. Dean was looking at him a certain way. The way he'd always hoped Dean would look at him. "Dean." 

"I don't know what I want," Dean said quietly. 

"Dean." 

"Let me find out." 

Castiel had been thinking about what it might be like for Dean to want him for almost as long as he'd known him, but not like this. Never like this. Drunk and confused and obviously hurting. So he made an executive decision. 

"No." 


	7. You're Too Scared

Castiel watched Jo move from table to table, clearing away dishes and cups and baskets of half eaten food. He’d been camped out in the Roadhouse trying to write his senior essay for hours now, and avoiding Dean for days. Everytime Jo and Charlie asked him why, he dodged the question, making excuses and - more than once - blaming his father for his “curfew” and “plan restrictions.” However, he couldn’t get any work done at home with his dad interrupting every few minutes to tell him Dean was calling for him. So, against his better judgement, he ventured out to the safest place he could think of which explained why he was sitting at the bar in the restaurant with a plate of fries and a strawberry milkshake. 

He should’ve expected Dean to track him down. 

Especially considering the faux innocent look Jo gave him when Dean slid onto the stool next to him. 

“You’re avoiding me,” Dean accused, glaring at Cas. 

Castiel drew his notecards toward him, organizing them into a neat pile. “Yes,” Castiel said, careful not to look at Dean. 

Dean grunted, “ _ What _ ? I’m your best friend. You’re just going to ignore me?” Castiel stared down his plate, counting the fries and each inhalation. He had to be smart about this, but there wasn’t any way he could fully explain the situation. Not without revealing everything, and that wasn’t an option. “Cas,” Dean said desperately, “talk to me.” 

Castiel spoke before he could think, “I don’t know how.” 

That stopped Dean for a moment, and Castiel could hear him sigh and whisper, “Fuck,” under his breath. For a moment they just sat side by side in uneasy silence. Things had never been hard for Dean and Cas. Sure, they’d had their fights, but nothing like this. The only thing that had ever even come close was when Cas accidentally scratched the back of the Impala sophomore year and Dean didn’t talk to him for a week. Dean touched Castiel’s arm, and, until then, he hadn’t realized that he’d been tapping the bar. “Cas,” Dean said, quiet and pleading, “look at me, man.” 

Castiel couldn’t. If he looked at him, that would be it. There was no way he’d be able to hold everything in.

_ “Please.” _

“Dean, I can’t,” Castiel said. 

“Then listen,” Dean said. That, Castiel could do. “I’m sorry about what happened the other night. With Lisa and… and after. It was stupid. I shouldn’t have done anything with her, and I shouldn’t have  _ said  _ anything to you. I know that. I just,  _ I don’t know _ . You were looking at me all hurt like, like a puppy or something. And,” he dropped his voice, “I just, I thought about…” from the corner of his eye, Castiel saw him rub his eyes with the flat of his hands. He whispered, “I thought that I wanted to kiss you.” Castiel jerked his head back, hand accidentally flicking the notecards out of their stack. Dean watched and then reached over to fix them. “I think I still might want to, and that’s so confusing.” Castiel was certain that Dean could hear his heart thundering away behind his ribs. He felt faint, like he might pass out.  _ Or swoon,  _ his mind supplied unhelpfully. “I won’t,” Dean said suddenly, “obviously.”  _ Obviously.  _ “I wouldn’t ever risk losing you.” 

“You wouldn’t lose me,” Castiel blurted instinctually. 

Dean paused for a moment, and Castiel chanced a look in his direction. He was already looking at Cas, and he looked tired but alert. His eyes bright and not clouded by cheap liquor like they had been the last time they’d spoken. “Cas,” he said softly. Castiel looked away. “I’m not saying you have to forgive me, but… I miss you.” 

Castiel took a moment and then hesitantly looked at him again, “I don’t understand what you want me to do here.” 

Dean opened his mouth and then glanced over Castiel’s left shoulder. Presumably at Jo. “I don’t… I just want you to help me figure this out.” He looked back at Castiel. Into his eyes. Intense and solemn. “I need help. I never thought… you’re the only person who could understand. I know Jo and Charlie are kind of a thing, but it’s different for them.” 

“Dean,” Cas said, “you think you’re--?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said with a shake of his head, “I think it might just be you.” 

Castiel’s mouth felt dry and his skin felt so hot. He couldn’t breathe. He took a drink of his milkshake. Castiel loved him. He knew he loved him, and, though he had hoped, he’d never really entertained the idea that Dean would ever love him back. “Dean.”

“ _ Castiel _ ,” Dean said, and his full name startled him. “I know this is crazy. I understand if you want me to go. I understand if you don’t want me around anymore. I just needed to talk to you. I needed you to know.” 

“I’d never want you to go,” Castiel said honestly, and Dean made a sound like he was surprised. “Dean,” Castiel continued, “you need to be sure about this.”

“How can I be sure?” Dean asked. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel said, “I guess it’s just a feeling.” 

“If it’s a feeling,” Dean said, “then I’m feeling it.” 

Castiel turned towards him, facing Dean fully. “We’re all here for you,” he told him. Dean nodded. “I’m still here for you,” Castiel affirmed, and, slowly, Dean smiled. 


	8. You're Leaving Soon

Castiel was perched on one of the large rocks near the pond, and Dean was leaning against it, looking up at him but not speaking. Jo, splashing in the water, was talking about her acceptance letter to Oregon State University. Cas had never seen her so excited about something. She’d applied there with her fingers crossed, never expecting that even if she was accepted her mom would let her go, but when her acceptance letter came with a full tuition scholarship included, Ellen couldn’t refuse. She was set to depart in early August, and, with graduation just around the corner, her excitement was palpable and it infected all of them. Castiel had received his acceptance to Oregon State a few months prior as part of his honors scholarship offer, and would be leaving in the middle of July to secure an apartment for the two of them, something they’d dreamed about since middle school. Charlie, fresh with an acceptance to MIT, was thrilled and ready for her sure to be outstanding future in Massachusetts. The only one who had yet to hear back was Dean. 

He’d come to Castiel for help with his resume, and had applied at ten schools across Kansas, Oklahoma, Nebraska, and, even as a last ditch effort, Oregon State, but with each passing day, he got more and more discouraged. Castiel and the girls did their best to lift his spirits, but, most days, he seemed beyond it. In fact, the day before, Dean had confided in Castiel that he wasn’t even planning on attending college anymore, citing Sam’s dream of Stanford as the excuse. Castiel had accepted his statement, not entirely supporting it, but Jo’s news had come a few hours later, and overshadowed much else in their lives. 

It had been a month since Dean confessed his confusion and possible feelings for Castiel, and, while nothing had officially changed between the two of them, they seemed only to become more inseparable, and Castiel’s impending move back to Oregon loomed over them.

Castiel stood, balancing carefully on the rock’s worn surface, and stripped his shirt, ignoring Charlie’s wolf-whistle from the edge of the water where she was dangling her feet in and braiding her hair. “I’m really proud of you, Jo,” Castiel told her, for what had to be the fifth time that day. She grinned up at him, shading her eyes with her hand. 

“So am I,” Dean said, “I’m proud of all of you guys.” 

“Dean, careful, you’ll make me all soft,” Jo teased with a laugh. Dean rolled his eyes and pushed off of the rock, offering Castiel a hand and taking his shirt, laying it flat on the grass away from the water. Castiel lowered himself into the water, and swam over to where Jo was, watching Dean strip his own shirt, and trying not to get caught. 

Charlie eased into the water and swam over to the other two as Dean adjusted the small radio he’d toted along with them. “Do you guys want to go up to Kansas City for senior skip day?” Dean asked. 

“Oh, my mom got Charlie and I tickets to a Pat Benatar concert,” Jo said, “I’m sorry, Dean. I thought you’d be working, and Cas doesn’t like to miss school.” 

Dean sighed, “It’s okay,” he said. Cas gave him a sad smile and watched him wade in. “Cas, you’ll go with me, right?” 

Castiel’s eyes cut away and he said, “I don’t know, I have perfect attendance.” Dean was close enough to them now, and he grabbed Castiel’s arm. Under the water, Dean touched his waist. 

Castiel almost died on the spot. 

That was one of the changes that came from Dean realizing he might like Castiel. Small touches. His knee when they were working on homework. His hand when they were walking to the pond together. The back of his neck once when he was helping Dean clean out the Impala. 

“Please, Cas? We can get lunch at that barbecue place we all went to a few months ago. Go look around downtown. It'll be fun," Dean said.

Castiel looked at Jo who shrugged. "I'd go if I could." 

"Dean, I've been working all year to have a perfect record," Cas whined. 

Dean rolled his eyes and tugged on Castiel's arm. "Please man, you're leaving soon and I want to hang out with you." 

Hesitantly, Cas said, "Okay fine," and Dean cheered, splashing him with water. 

Cas wiped his face off and glared at Dean, but, with the way Dean was smiling at him, he couldn't really be angry. 

Senior skip day was a week later, and Dean showed up at Castiel’s house at nine that morning with a grin, a thermos of coffee - which he thrust in Castiel’s direction, earning him a soft smile - and a backpack loaded with - as he learned from his sleepily grunted inquiry - “secrets.”

Dean followed Cas up the stairs to his bedroom, telling his father and stepmother hello as they passed them at the kitchen table. Castiel was not a morning person, and Dean knew this, so when they got to Castiel’s room and Cas settled back onto his bed, pulling his blankets over his head, Dean just smiled and huffed a laugh. Now that Castiel was awake, he couldn’t go back to sleep, so, instead, he just listened to Dean move around his bedroom. 

In just a few moments, Dean was curling onto the bed next to him, tucking himself up under the covers. One of his feet brushed against Castiel’s legs, and Cas turned just enough to let Dean’s leg settle comfortably between Castiel’s. Cas could feel his heart drumming away in his throat, urged on by the proximity between the two of them. He wondered if Dean could hear it. Soon, Dean was pressing himself up behind Castiel, drawing him close against his chest and holding him there protectively in an embrace just as familiar as it was foreign. He felt Dean press his face to the soft spot between Castiel’s neck and shoulder, and there they laid for what felt like hours. 

They hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but when they woke up, it was nearing noon, and Castiel, in a change of pace, was holding Dean, head nestled atop Dean’s hair. Nervously, he untangled himself from the sheets and from Dean and then made his way across the room to his closet, pulling down a shirt and a pair of pants which he changed into quickly, casting a nervous look over his shoulder at one point to ensure that Dean was still sleeping. When he had changed, he set to the task of packing up a few belongings, a routine he had started a few weeks back so he’d have less to do the weekend before his move. 

Dean propped himself up on his elbows almost thirty minutes later, startling Castiel out of his almost methodical packing of a few trinkets into a box marked with a cartoonish apple and the name  _ Groth’s Grocery _ . “What are you doing?” Dean asked through a yawn. 

“Packing,” Castiel replied, spinning in his desk chair to face Dean. 

“Jesus,” Dean said, “already?”

“It’s saving me time in the long run.” 

“I guess so. It’s like you can’t wait to get out of here.”

Cas made a face, “It’s not like that.” 

But it was. Kind of. Cas had felt trapped in Kansas from the first moment his dad’s station wagon left the airport way back in ‘87. Now he was on the verge of escape. Back to where he’d always asserted that he belonged. Oregon. Home sweet home. This time with Jo by his side. It was everything he'd wanted since he was nine. Castiel cast a heartsick glance at Dean. Well,  _ almost  _ everything. 

"It is," Dean said, "a little bit at least." 

Castiel didn't answer, just pressed his lips into a line and wondered why this was so hard. Everyone had always known that Castiel would go back when he got the chance, it was almost like his consolation prize for coming to Kansas in the first place. Sure he'd lived in Lawrence longer than Portland and he'd met his best friends there and he couldn't imagine a life without the relationship he'd built with Gabriel, but a return to Oregon was what had fueled him for so long, and surely Dean hadn't actually expected him to change his mind and stay in Kansas forever. 

"I mean, what about me, Cas?" Dean asked, voice filling with hurt, "What about your friends?"

"If I don't leave now," Castiel said with a sigh, continuing to shove things into the box on his desk, "then I'll never get away." 

"Is that such a bad thing?" Dean questioned rising and grabbing Castiel's shoulder. 

Cas stared at him, "Dean, Lawrence isn't my end goal, and it shouldn't be yours." 

"Lawrence isn't my end goal," Dean said, jaw clenching. 

Castiel looked at him sadly, "I know that. I'm sorry." 

Dean hesitated for a second and then said, "It's fine." He looked at Cas for a moment, eyes lingering around his mouth, but he blinked and then looked away. "The way it's looking, I'll probably die here anyway." 

Castiel pursed his lips, "That's not true." 

"Yeah it is, Cas. You're leaving in a couple months, Jo's moving with you, Charlie's going to MIT soon, and, meanwhile, I can't even get accepted at K-fucking-U." He dug at his eyes with a fist, to stop tears or alleviate sleep, Castiel wasn't sure. "It's pretty clear. My end goal might not be Lawrence but the story's headed there." 

"So rewrite it," Castiel said. "Since when do you follow rules?" Dean looked at him, surprised. "Move with us." 

"What?" 

"You could find a job pretty easily, try community colleges if you don't hear back from OSU. You'd already have a home with us, built in friends." Castiel ticked reasons off on his fingers as he spoke, and Dean's eyes grew. 

"But--" 

"You don't have to, but it's not Lawrence. If you want to leave, then leave. What's stopping you?" 

"Sam," Dean said after a beat of contemplative silence. 

  
Castiel looked at him, understanding, finally, that underneath it all - the burning disgust with himself, the disappointment of his friends' departure, the lost hope, even the devastation Lisa had sought - Dean was terrified. "I get it," Cas said, nodding, "just think about it.”


	9. It's All So Complicated

Castiel had always waited to get back to Oregon, so why was it so hard now that he was. He and Jo had been there for about a month, and while Jo seemed to be fine making friends, Cas was miserable. School was school, and he was getting on fine in his classes, but on the friendship front, he was failing for sure. There were some clubs he’d thought about joining, and some nice people in his classes, but nothing made him feel as comfortable or as safe as he did in Kansas - which is something he’d never thought possible. He tried not to dwell on what Dean might have to do with that. 

Dean had decided, ultimately, that he didn’t want to leave Lawrence behind. More than that, Castiel thought, was that he didn’t want to be alone. And while friends were temporary, family was always something he could depend upon. Why say goodbye when there were no guarantees? 

Cas was sitting on his bed taking notes for his history class and nursing a can of soda. There was music thumping in the next room over, remnants of a party Jo was having with a few of her new friends. Castiel had mingled with them for a couple of hours but retreated a little before midnight to cram for a test. No one seemed as interesting as Dean or Charlie and he was feeling a little homesick, a feeling he’d equated with Oregon for so long that he didn’t know exactly what to think.

There was a soft tap at his door and he looked up, eyebrows furrowed. “Come in?” 

At his door stood a fair skinned man with dark eyes and a slow smile. “Hi,” he said. He had a light accent, a drawl just slightly southern. He tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned against the open door. Laughter drifted in from the other room, and Cas could smell the herbal twinge of clove cigarettes. “Cas, right? We talked earlier.” 

Castiel tried to read the man’s face better, “Right. Peter,” he said. “I remember.” The man smiled a little more. “You can come in, if you’d like.”

At the very mention of an invitation, he crossed the floor. Cas moved his notebook and text to the side, pushing clear a spot for Peter to sit. “What are you working on?” He asked, gesturing to the book. 

“Early Western Cultures,” Castiel replied. 

“With Cutler?” He asked. Castiel nodded the affirmative, “Damn, I had him last semester. It’s tough.”

“It’s not so bad,” Castiel said with a lift of one shoulder. 

Peter shook his head a little and looked almost bashful, “You must be pretty smart behind those big blue eyes then, huh?” Before he could stop himself, Castiel laughed. Nothing more than breath really, but a laugh nonetheless, and the other man took that as a win. 

“I don’t know about that,” Castiel began, “but thank you.” 

“You must be if Killer Cutler doesn’t scare you.” 

“Killer Cutler,” Cas scoffed, “that’s creative.” 

“Thank you OSU alums,” Peter said with a cocksure grin.

Cas smiled at him a little. “Are you a sophomore?” 

Peter lifted a hand to his hair and scratched, “I’m a junior actually.” Castiel tried to mask his surprise, while he definitely looked older than Cas, he didn’t look that grown up. “You’re a freshman right? You know Jo from high school?” 

“Yeah,” Cas said. “What are you majoring in?” 

“Biology,” He said with a sideways glance at Castiel’s wall of pictures. “I assume you’re a history major?” Castiel tilted his head, giving him a questioning look. “Because of the Early Cultures class.”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Cas said. “I was so focused in high school that I didn’t really think about anything after.” 

Peter nodded and laughed a little, “Understandable,” he said, “I didn’t decide until sophomore year. You’ve got plenty of time.” 

“Thanks,” Castiel said, and he meant it, because while his parents had been telling him this, it felt good coming from another student. 

“So why’d you choose OSU? You’re from Kansas right?”

“I lived in Portland with my mom when I was little. I always planned to come back here someday. College just seemed like a good time.”

Peter smiled slyly, “Well, on behalf of Oregon, I’m glad you came home.” 

_ Home.  _

Cas tried to smile, but he could feel that it was almost sour, so he stopped. “Thank you,” he said - less sincere this time. 

Peter seemed to sense the switch in the atmosphere, so he rose. “Can I get you a drink or something? I think they’re smoking cloves in there, if you want to join?” 

Castiel hesitated for a moment, but when Peter extended his hand, Castiel made a split second decision, and took it. 

The living room was a different scene than it had been a few hours earlier. The coffee table was littered with cups, each on a coaster - god bless Jo Harvelle - and there was a somewhat dense fog of smoke bouncing off the light glowing from the TV. On the couch was Jo, with a girl on each side of her, one with a short, dark afro, the other with a pink bob. Jo looked up at Cas, led by Peter and gave him a soft smile.

Peter and Cas made their way to the kitchen, hand in hand, neither willing to let go. Peter poured a beer into a cup and handed it to Cas, saving the remaining amount in the bottle and lifting it to his mouth with a smile. “I think they’re watching Clueless,” Peter said, wrinkling his nose. 

Castiel smiled up at him and rolled his eyes, “It’s a classic.”

Peter laughed, “Then let’s go watch.” 

They made their way into the living room, settling in next to the girls on the couch. It was a tight fit, so Castiel ended up half on Peter’s lap, and half on the arm of the couch. It should’ve been uncomfortable with how little he knew Peter, but there was something about him that made Castiel trust him enough that he didn’t worry. At some point, Peter’s hand came to rest on Castiel’s lower back, and Cas didn’t dispute or deny the touch. 

When everyone had cleared out, Jo and Cas set to picking up the house. Their guests had been few, so there wasn’t much trash to collect, and they made quick work of it. “So,” Jo said, “Peter’s nice, huh?” 

“He is,” Castiel said.

“And cute?” Jo added, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Castiel laughed. She was drunk enough that hearing Cas laugh absolutely set her off on a path of unending peals of giggles. “Let’s get you to bed,” Cas said, shaking his head. 

He ushered her to her room, and helped her out of her socks because  _ “I’m not an animal, Cas.”  _ As he made his way to her bedroom door, she sat up. “Hey, Cas?” Castiel’s hand rested just above the light switch, and he turned to look at her. “Give Pete a chance, okay? I know you miss Dean, but he’s really nice and sweet, and I think he’d be good for you.” 

“We’ll see,” Cas answered, seeming to satisfy her enough that she laid back down. Cas flipped off the light, and lulled the door shut behind him. He crossed the living room to a window and cracked it open, hoping that the air flow would clear the air of the thick smell of clove and faint hints of sweat and smoke from a candle he’d blown out a few minutes earlier. 

As he headed for his room, there was a light knock on the front door. He stopped, sighed, and went to the front door. He checked the peephole and raised an eyebrow, opening the door and eyeing Peter suspiciously. 

“Hey, Cas,” Peter said sheepishly, “I think I left my wallet.” 

“Oh,” Castiel said, “Come on in, I’ll help you look.” 

Peter smiled, “Thank you. I’m sorry to bother you.” 

“It’s no problem,” Cas said, “I hadn’t gone to bed yet.” 

Peter laughed softly, “Right, that’s good.” 

  
Cas felt embarrassment spreading over his features, and he absentmindedly rubbed his arm. “What does your wallet look like?” He asked. 

“It’s black leather, pretty empty,” he joked. Cas laughed and went to the couch where they’d been sitting. He dug his hands along the creases of fabric in it, and felt for anything resembling a wallet. He found no inkling that it was there, but lifted his eyes when Peter said, “Oh!” He was in the kitchen, crouching by the sink. Cas raised an eyebrow and made his way in, walking quickly but quietly. Peter’s wallet was laying open before the sink, and Castiel’s eyes widened, wondering how he and Jo had managed to miss it in such an obvious location. Peter scooped it up and stuck it in his back right pocket. “Well, that’s that,” He said, “thanks for letting me in to look.” 

“Of course,” Castiel said. 

Peter followed Castiel to the door and then stopped to look at him. “Castiel,” he said, “I’d really like to get to know you better.” 

Cas met his eyes and smiled. He just couldn’t stop himself. “I’d like to get to know you better too.” 

Peter grinned and stepped through the open door, turning to look at Cas from the hallway outside. “Castiel,” he said again, “would it be okay if I kissed you?” 

Cas hesitated, tilting his head and glancing away. He liked Peter, and Jo was right, he was attractive. He had a nice smile and kind eyes, and his hands and voice were soft. Castiel wondered what his mouth might feel like, and knew there was only one way to find out. “Sure,” he said, “that would be okay.” 

Peter smiled and leaned forward, but, to Castiel’s surprise, his lips fell on the rise of Castiel’s left cheek. When he pulled back after only a second, they met eyes, and Peter said, “Goodnight, Castiel.” 

“Goodnight, Peter,” Cas said gently. Peter smiled again, and looked like he wanted to say something more, but, instead, he lifted a hand, waved, and disappeared down the hallway. Castiel watched him go, and then shut and locked the door. 

He went to his room, and slept through the night peacefully. The first time he’d done so since moving back to Oregon. 

It was a few weeks when Castiel saw Peter again, and, when he did, it was only by chance. He was walking back to his apartment from the campus library when he stumbled over a rock and nearly fell. He managed to catch himself, but his books spilled out from his arms. He sighed and leaned down to collect his things when two scuffed shoes stopped in his eyeline. He glanced up, and there stood Peter, highlighted by the midafternoon sun. 

“Castiel,” Peter said with a smile, “need some help?” 

Castiel picked up his books and righted himself, “I think I’ve got it,” he said. Peter reached out and pushed the top book more securely toward Castiel’s chest. 

“Well good. Can I walk you to your next class?” He asked. 

“Oh, I’m done for the day,” Castiel replied, “I’m, uh, heading home.”

Peter grinned, “Well, in that case, do you want to get some lunch? I’ll buy.” 

Castiel wavered for a moment. Jo was in class for another hour or so, and she’d picked up an additional shift at the school bookstore from three to five, so he didn’t have any other obligations. He eyed Peter’s hopeful smile, his nice striped yellow shirt, and his dark ripped jeans. He took a moment to remind himself that he didn’t have any reason not to take Peter up on the offer. He had wanted to spend more time with him, and a free meal was a free meal, no matter how you looked at it. 

“Sure,” Castiel said, “let’s go.” 

Peter’s smile seemed to grow, if possible. “Great,” he said, “There’s a really great diner just up the road.” 

“Okay,” Castiel said. 

The diner was small and crowded for being almost two o’clock, but they found an empty booth in the corner and settled in across from each other. Castiel set his books next to him on the seat, and crossed his feet at the ankles before drawing the laminated menu towards him. Peter stretched one arm along the back of the booth behind him, and didn’t bother with the menu, instead wedging it behind a silver napkin dispenser. He surveyed the diner quietly, giving the dated pop culture decor a once over before training his eyes on Castiel. 

A blonde waitress approached their table, and smiled at them. “Peter,” she said, “hey, it’s been a while. Who’s your friend?” 

“Hey, Hes, this is Castiel,” Peter said conversationally. 

Castiel looked up at her and said, “Hi.” 

“Castiel,” she said, turning his name over in her mouth, “that’s a cool name. Is it from the Bible?” 

“Yes,” Cas replied, almost shocked, “it’s the Angel of Thursday.”

“Rad,” she said, flashing him a smile. Cas smiled back. 

“Thank you.” 

“Can I start you guys off with some drinks?” She asked, pulling a small, lined notepad from a pocket on her apron.

“I’ll have a sweet tea,” he said, he leaned forward conspiratorially and said to Cas with a wink, “not as good as back home though.” 

Castiel’s eyes cut away but couldn’t stop his smile. “I’ll have a Coke,” he said, “please.”

“You’ve got it, guys,” she said, and walked back toward the kitchen, curled hair bouncing as she went. 

“How do you know her?” Castiel asked. 

“She and I had Intro to Psych together freshman year. Her name’s Hester. She’s a nice girl,” Peter explained. Castiel glanced back at the menu and then folded it and stuck it where Peter had placed his. “How’re you liking your classes, Castiel?” he asked after a beat. 

“They’re okay. I’ve always liked school.” 

Peter looked at him almost playfully. “I’m sure you have.” 

“What does that mean?”

“You just seem that way.” 

Castiel wasn’t sure if he should feel offended or not, but he didn’t. Not really. 

Hester returned with their glasses, and took their orders - chili fries for Peter and a cheeseburger for Cas. When she had gone again, Castiel found the courage to ask Peter some questions, “Where are you from?”

Peter moved in his seat, pulling one leg up and folding it under himself. “I’m from Albany,” he said, “in Georgia.” 

“Did you like it there?” Castiel asked. 

A soft smile touched Peter’s mouth. “I loved it,” he said. “Moved there from Atlanta when I was seven with my mom and sisters. I was the quarterback in high school.” 

“You have sisters?”

“Four,” Peter said, “I’m right in the middle.” He laughed, “It’s the worst.” Castiel smiled. “Do you have any?” 

“Just one,” he said, “a stepsister. But I have two older brothers.” 

“So you’re the baby?” Peter teased. 

“I guess so,” Castiel said with a light laugh. “It’s not so bad now, but when I was little I hated it.” 

“No one’s ever super happy with birth order,” Peter concluded. “At least you weren’t a makeup test dummy.” 

Castiel laughed outright at that and shook his head, “You have no idea. When Jo was thirteen, she went through a Madonna phase. I know how to strike a pose.” 

Peter’s laugh was smooth and deep and Castiel found solace in it. It seemed almost familiar. He watched the scene of his laugh, and it  _ was  _ a scene. He laughed with his whole body. Cas could listen to it for hours. “You have to show me sometime. I’m intrigued.” 

“Maybe sometime. Never sober,” Cas said offhandedly. 

Peter raised an eyebrow, smiling mischievously. “That can be arranged.” 

Hester arrived with their order and cast a look over her shoulder before sitting down on the narrow space beside Peter. Peter glanced at her and she sighed, “Richard’s on my ass.” 

“Oh?” Peter asked. 

“He said I need to “apply myself more,” but really we’re just understaffed. He’s asking too much of all of us.” She tucked hair behind her ear and then stood up as if caught slacking, but Castiel couldn’t see anyone looking at her. “If you guys know anyone looking for a job, send ‘em my way. We’re desperate.” She smoothed her apron down and hurried off. 

“Looking for a job?” Peter asked when he noticed Castiel watching her cross the floor. 

“Maybe,” Cas said. 

“Well, I know a lot of the employees,” Peter said, “they’d make you feel right at home.” 

Castiel took a drink of his Coke and tried not to look at Peter too much. They ate leisurely, making warm conversation and enjoying each other’s company. When they had finished their meals, Peter walked him home and up to his unit, stalling at Castiel’s front door.

“I had a nice time,” Peter said, “thanks for letting me take you out.” 

“Peter?” Castiel said. 

“Yeah?” 

“Tell me if I’m off base, but, was this a date?” Castiel asked. 

Peter smiled shyly, “I guess it was. Was it okay?” 

“Yes,” Castiel said. “I had fun. It was nice.” He could feel himself starting to blush, but he couldn’t help feeling almost guilty for meaning the compliment and being excited that he was right. 

“We should do it again,” Peter suggested. Castiel nodded eagerly, but - he hoped - not  _ too  _ eagerly. Peter laughed and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Castiel’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon,” he said. 

“Okay,” Castiel said, “Goodbye, Peter.” 

“Bye, Castiel.” 

Cas went inside and closed the door, leaning against it and smiling, embarrassingly, like a schoolgirl. Maybe Oregon wasn’t as bad as it had started to seem.

~ 

Christmas in Oregon was beautiful and Castiel had been taken with it since he was a child. The magnificent snowfalls alone were enough to entrance him. Currently, Jo was curled up on the couch with a mug of hot cocoa next to her girlfriend Israel. She was pigheaded and competitive but had a clear soft spot for animals and Jo. They had met at freshman orientation and shared many new experiences throughout their first semester. Israel had become a regular fixture at their home, along with Peter who was currently sitting on the floor with his head resting against Castiel’s bent knees. 

The four of them were having a Christmas movie marathon before each departing for their respective hometowns in the next few days. Currently, they were on movie two, Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase. They were at Jo’s favorite scene when there was a knock on the door. Castiel and Jo had a moment of sustained eye contact before Castiel sighed and patted Peter’s shoulder, causing him to lean forward enough for Castiel to stand. He looked up at Cas and smiled. Castiel smiled back, and made his way to the door. 

He opened it without checking the peephole and then took a step back. “Dean.”

Dean was standing in the hallway clutching a small duffle bag. He grinned at Castiel and said, “Hey, Cas.” 

Castiel lurched forward and wrapped him in a hug. Dean laughed and hugged him back tightly. From inside the apartment, Cas heard Jo say, “Dean?” and in a moment, Jo was entering their embrace. When they separated, Jo was near tears, and Cas was struggling to get his brain to catch up with his facial features. He couldn’t distinguish just what he looked like at that moment. “What are you doing here?” Jo asked. 

“I thought I’d come up to get you guys for Christmas,” he said with a smile. “I just couldn’t wait to see you guys.” 

“Jo,” Israel said from behind them, “who’s this?” 

Dean switched his attention over their shoulders. “I’m Dean,” he said, “Winchester. From Kansas.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Peter said, and Castiel felt his stomach drop. Dean pushed past Jo and Castiel, and accepted the handshake Peter was offering. “I’m Peter.”

“You too,” Dean said. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Peter said, and, while that was true, he’d never learned the extent of it all. He didn’t know about Castiel’s past feelings for him  _ (and they were past feelings… weren’t they?)  _

“Oh, yeah?” Dean asked, glancing back at Castiel and Jo and almost smirking. 

Jo closed the door and said, “Israel, this is Dean. Dean, this is my girlfriend Israel.” 

Dean looked at the pink haired girl, and extended a hand, “Hey,” he said. 

Israel looked him up and down and said, “Hey, good to finally meet you.” 

“Thanks,” Dean said. 

“Well, come on,” Jo said, ushering him further into their apartment. “We’re watching Christmas Vacation. Do you want something to drink? Peter made eggnog.” She bounced her eyebrows up and down, “ _ Real  _ eggnog.” 

Dean gave Peter a look and nodded, “Sure, Jo.” 

Jo grinned and retreated to the kitchen, to get Dean his beverage. Israel followed behind her, leaving Castiel alone with the two greatest love stories of his life. There was no need to fret, however, because Jo returned from the kitchen without incident, and the five of them settled in front of the television. Israel and Jo squished onto the couch with Castiel and Peter, and Dean took up residence in the chair beside it. They watched the rest of Christmas Vacation, and Castiel pretended to ignore Dean’s eyes on him and Peter’s arm around his shoulders.

When the movie had ended, Israel and Jo donned their coats, and Jo walked her down to her car. Castiel and Peter collected their discarded mugs and carried them to the kitchen while Dean excused himself to use the bathroom. 

“Seeing Dean must be a nice surprise,” Peter said when they stood before the sink. “You too were close in high school, right?” 

“Yes,” Cas said, “it’s definitely a surprise.” 

“I’ll go back to my place so the three of you can spend some time together,” he said with a smile. 

“Thank you,” Castiel said.

Peter turned to face Cas directly, drawing him close in a firm but tender embrace. “I love you,” Peter said. “Come see me before you leave for Lawrence, okay?” 

“Okay,” Castiel said, with a hesitant smile. Peter smiled, kissed Castiel, and then crossed the floor to grab his fleece lined coat. “Do you want me to walk you out?” Castiel asked. 

“I think I can manage,” Peter joked with a wink. “Goodnight, Castiel.” 

“Goodnight, Peter,” Castiel said. 

Peter smiled and lifted a shoulder, slipping on his coat and then slipping, just as easily, out the front door. 

Dean had emerged from the bathroom at some point and was watching Castiel from just behind the chair he’d been sitting in only a few moments earlier. Cas jumped a little when he noticed him, face coloring equally from embarrassment and misplaced guilt. 

“So Peter’s your boyfriend then?” Dean asked without any subtlety or tact. 

“Yes,” Castiel said. 

“How long has that been going on?” Dean asked, sounding accusatory and hurt at the same time. 

“Since early September,” Castiel said. 

“A little early for “I love you’s,” if you ask me,” Dean said. 

“I didn’t,” Castiel said bluntly. 

“What?” 

“Ask you.” 

Dean stared at him for a minute. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

They looked at each other in silence for a long while and then Dean spoke again. “I figured when you moved things would change, but I didn’t realize you’d start dating.” Castiel stared at him, squinting just slightly, and tilting his head. 

“I’m allowed to date,” Castiel said defensively. 

“Of course you are,” Dean said, “I just didn’t think you would.” 

“Why?” Castiel asked. Genuinely curious, but feeling anger welling up inside of him without his consent. 

“I don’t know,” Dean began, “I just… I always assumed you didn’t like dating. You know,” he said, “after what happened with Crowley.” 

“That was different,” Castiel said.  _ I was in love with you.  _

“How was it different?” 

“I grew up.” 

“Did you?” 

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but the front door opened, and Jo came in. Immediately, she hugged Dean again. 

“I missed you so much,” she said, “We both did.” Dean hugged her back, looking over his shoulder at Castiel who averted his eyes. 

Castiel and Dean managed to keep their previous, tense conversation under wraps for the rest of the evening. The three of them discussed everything they could, from how school had been going to Dean’s work at his dad’s shop to memories from high school. They talked late into the night before Jo called it at around two a.m.. She collected herself from the couch, draping herself in a blue blanket and padding into her bedroom, saying her goodnights to her two friends. 

Castiel got up from the couch and wandered over to the linen closet to the left of the bathroom. He took a few blankets from the shelf and handed them to Dean. “I’ll get you a pillow,” he said, going into his bedroom and plucking one of his own off of his bed. He placed it down on the couch and looked at Dean. 

He felt the familiar urge to wrap Dean in a hug, or draw him close and whisper secrets and truths and anything else he could think of. He wanted to kiss him. To love him. He shook his head before his mind could wander too far, and took a step back. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” he said. 

Dean looked like he wanted to say something important, but, instead, he just said, “Night, Cas,” and let him go into his room and close the door. 

Castiel changed into his pajamas, and poised himself on his bed. From the crack under his door, he saw the living room light shut off, and he breathed a sigh of relief. His head was spinning, and it had been since he’d opened the door and saw Dean. He hadn’t ever fully come to terms with what he’d felt for Dean since they were children. Throughout all of junior high and high school, he’d harbored a deep love and adoration for Dean, and when he’d moved to college, those feelings hadn’t just disappeared. Had they?  _ Certainly not. _

When Castiel had met Peter, he’d latched onto him like a lifeline. Something strong and secure. Peter had said he loved Castiel first, and Castiel had reciprocated. Hadn't he?  _ Of course he had. _ Peter was sweet and funny and beautiful, and he cared about Castiel deeply. That was obvious. And Castiel cared for him too. He hoped that was obvious. 

How dare Dean come into his life in Oregon and seem dissatisfied with Castiel’s choices. How dare he ask if Castiel had grown up. How dare he make Castiel feel inferior for moving on. Castiel ground his hands into his eyes and tried not to scream. Dean shouldn’t make him feel like this. But he had  _ always  _ made him feel like this. Out of control and heavy. 

He was happy here. He was happy with Peter. He was happy, for maybe the first time, with  _ himself.  _ So why couldn’t he stop thinking about obliterating all of that happiness for a moment of time with Dean Fucking Winchester. 

“Christ,” Castiel said out loud, quietly. 

Maybe if he could talk to Jo he could figure this all out.

He climbed off his bed and made for the door before immediately halting and leaving his hand hovering over the doorknob. Venturing to Jo’s bedroom would almost definitely mean coming into contact with Dean, and, if that happened, there was no telling what might happen. He had to make the call and decide what was more important. After a moment of carefully weighing his options, he opened the door and instantly regretted it.

Dean was standing in front of him, eyes wide, and hand poised to knock. He looked just as alarmed as Castiel felt. “What are you doing?” He whispered. 

“What are  _ you  _ doing?” Castiel countered, just as softly. 

“I wanted to talk to you.” 

“I was going to talk to Jo.” 

They looked at each other and then Dean said, “I’m sorry.” 

_ Well _ . Castiel hadn’t been expecting  _ that _ . 

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry I was a dick earlier. I should’ve been happy for you, but I was just… jealous I guess.” 

“You were jealous?” 

“Yeah, Cas. I was jealous.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m in love with you,” Dean said. 

And Castiel  _ really  _ hadn’t been expecting that. 

He didn’t know what to do. He’d never thought he’d actually have to face a confession of love from Dean. No amount of hoping or beating around the bush could have prepared him for what it might actually be like. Many years earlier when Dean had first mentioned maybe liking him, it felt like his entire soul was alight with misplaced hope, and, as time went on, it felt more and more like a lie. But this was something altogether new. It was like running a race and finally reaching the finish line. A breath of fresh air. Rain after a drought. Castiel stared at him feeling every emotion possible, from utter elation to barely contained fury. Why now of all times? Why not freshman year of high school? Why not after his breakup with Lisa? Why not after he first started considering it? Why not after they graduated? There had been so many opportunities for this, so why  _ now _ ? Why now when Castiel was finally feeling happy and loved. It wasn’t fair. 

“No,” Castiel said.

Dean blinked, “No?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, “ _ No. _ ” Dean stared at him, mouth parted and eyes wide. “You can’t.”

“I do,” Dean said. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry,” Castiel shook his head. “Dean, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. You can’t do this to me now. It’s taken so long for me to move on. I’ve had everyone telling me for years to get you out of my head, and I’ve finally done it. You can’t just show up here and tell me you love me. You can’t do that.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I waited years to hear you tell me that. I’ve swallowed almost a decade of loving you. This isn’t fair.” 

“Cas,” Dean said slowly, “I know this is a lot. I know it’s not fair. I just… I need you. We’re family. We’re supposed to be together. We’re supposed to love each other, and if you love me even close to how I love you, then--”

“Stop,” Castiel interrupted, one hand held out between them. “Please stop.” 

“Cas.” 

“Dean, I can’t.  _ You  _ can’t.”

“Can you just listen to me for a minute? Please.” Castiel looked at him. He didn’t want to listen to what Dean had to say. If he listened he might do something stupid. He might start crying and never stop. He might kiss him. He might do any number of things that could lead him down a road to sure heartbreak -  _ or sure happiness.  _ He took too long to answer. “I know this is a terrible time for this. I know it’s not ideal. But, Cas, if you’ve really loved me that long, it doesn’t just go away after a few months.” Castiel didn’t want to hear this. Mostly because it was true. “I know that you feel the same way. You have to. Cas, all I do is think. I think about you. I think about high school. All the times I didn’t realize I wanted to kiss you. All the times I should have. If I could go back, I would. If I could do it over, I would. If you’d just let me, I could love you the way you’ve always wanted to be loved.” 

Castiel was at a complete loss here. Dean had never been one for giving speeches or talking about his feelings, and here he was doing both. His eyes were big and dark and he was looking at Castiel like he held all the answers. Maybe he did. It was torture. It was so hard for Castiel to get a handle on everything that was happening. Here was the ultimate resolution of his entire teenage life, culminating in a declaration of love that he’d never truly been prepared for. And nothing about it was fair, nothing about it was right. He felt like fainting. He felt like sprinting into oncoming traffic. Mark this as a simultaneous win and loss and get the hell out of Dodge.

“What do you want me to do, Dean?” Castiel asked. 

“Say you love me too,” Dean said. “Say you love me too and we’ll figure the rest out together. Just like you said we would a long time ago.” 

“I do love you, Dean,” Castiel said, surprising even himself. 

Dean seemed to relax slightly. “So what’s next?” 

Castiel could only look at him. “You tell me this time.” 


	10. He Makes You Question Yourself

Castiel was sitting across the room from Jo trying not to think about anything at all. It had been almost seven months since Dean’s admission of love and Castiel’s inevitable break up with Peter. It was an arduous and messy situation, and all Castiel ever thought about now was just how much he’d gained and how much he’d lost. Jo hadn’t taken the news lightly. She’d seemed to go through the stages of grief right alongside Castiel. In fact, they’d fought about it for almost a week. She thought he was being ridiculous and unfair, but she and Cas had sat down together and hashed everything out until she came to terms with it and decided, finally, to be happy for them. Occasionally, Cas would look up to find her looking at Dean with a mixture of sadness and disgust, but it would fade back to compliance and almost joy within a matter of seconds. Things hadn’t gone the way Castiel planned, but, in life, things rarely did. As for right now, he was just trying to enjoy it. 

Dean had moved in with them four months ago, pending Castiel’s renewed understanding of his desperate love for him. And it was desperate. It always had been, after all. Dean had found a job downtown at an auto parts store, and - finally - he understood why Castiel had waited so long to go back to Oregon. He loved it there. He was flourishing. He’d made an outstanding amount of friends in a short amount of time, and Castiel felt almost jealous. All of his friends had disappeared with his relationship with Peter, and while Castiel couldn’t blame them, he still felt the loss to his very core, and no amount of time spent with Dean could heal the wound completely. He hoped that, as time pressed on, it would. 

Dean opened the door and came inside, smiling at his friends as they looked up. Castiel felt himself relax, and he smiled back at Dean. “Hey,” Jo said, “how was work?” 

“It was good,” Dean said, hanging his jacket up on the hook by the door. “How was class?” 

“It was okay,” Jo said, glancing back down at her book. 

“Cas?” 

“It went well,” Cas said. 

Dean nodded and smiled again. “I’m going to shower,” Dean said, “do you guys want to go to dinner when I’m done?” 

“Sure,” Jo said, “there’s a new Italian place over on tenth that Israel swears is the best.”

“Sounds good,” Dean said, “I’ll see you guys in a few.”

Dean headed for Castiel’s room -  _ their room  _ \- likely to get some clothes together. Castiel stood from his chair, largely ignored by Jo, and did the same, closing the door behind him when he’d crossed the threshold. Dean was folding a pair of jeans in half and he paused to watch Cas come inside. 

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Doing okay today?” Dean asked. Castiel hesitated before speaking and then he shook his head. Dean wiped his hands on his work pants and then made his way over to Castiel, touching his arms and pulling him forward into a hug. His head leaned against Castiel’s hair and said, “What’s wrong, baby?” 

“Dean,” Castiel said from against his chest, “am I a bad person?” 

Dean stilled for a moment and then squeezed Castiel tighter. “No,” He said definitively, “you’re the best person I know.” 

Castiel wanted to shrink down and live in Dean’s arms forever, but this was real life and that was an impossibility. “I want to believe you,” He said, “but I can’t get past everything.” 

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, pulling back and drawing Cas over to the bed where they sat, side by side. 

“I broke Peter’s heart to explore this with you. To follow some misguided love that I’ve always had for you. What if that was a mistake?” 

“ _ “Misguided?” _ ” Dean said, “Does it feel like a mistake?” 

“I don’t know,” Castiel said. “Most of the time it doesn’t but sometimes I wonder if this is all really real.” Castiel was fighting off an entire fleet of emotion that would surely all come to the forefront if he looked at Dean. 

“It’s real,” Dean affirmed. Castiel glanced over at him and then away. “Cas, the way I love you is real.” He took one of Castiel’s hands and turned to face him more. “I know this is hard,” he continued, “but it is true. What can I do to help you see it?” 

“I don’t know,” Castiel said, “I don’t know if anything would really help.” Finally, he maneuvered to where he could fully maintain eye contact with Dean. “If this had been a few years ago, there would be no question of how this would all go.” 

“So why is there now?” Dean asked.

“I wonder if it’s all because you were jealous. I wonder if this would have happened had you not been upset I was with Peter.” 

“It would have happened,” Dean said. “I came to Oregon that night to tell you everything. I had no idea you had a boyfriend. I wanted you to know anyway. I was jealous because I loved you and you were loving someone else before I had the chance to let you know.” Cas shook his head and blinked. “Cas, in every ending to this story I can see, it’s the two of us together.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes.” 

They looked at each other for a long time. Dean touched Castiel’s face softly, holding him in a cradle. It was everything Castiel had wanted for so long, and it was time he let himself enjoy it. It was time to stop hiding, because, even in the seven months they’d been together, that’s all he’d been doing for years.  _ Hiding.  _

“Dean,” Castiel said, “I love you.” 

Dean smiled and lifted one of Castiel’s hands to his mouth. He kissed Castiel’s knuckles, “And I love you.” 


	11. Twenty Reasons to Love Him

Dean was sweet with light, sun kissed hair and oval eyes of shining forest green. It was the moment Castiel met him that he truly fell in love, though it had taken many years to fully realize this fact. If there was any question, it had been removed at the onset of their adolescence. 

Dean was a spitfire, a shoot-first-ask-questions-later, methodical thinker with a heart of gold and fault lines of loyalty. He never wavered in the protection of his friends and family, and the recognition of this was his defining characteristic. 

If Dean had a question of someone’s priorities, he was never one to hesitate in inquiring. In his eyes, the truth was something attainable and worth understanding.

He was the most caring individual Castiel had ever met, and the lengths to which this care spread were innumerable and unmeasured. Nearly everyone was certain of that. 

Dean was a reliable person. A shoulder to cry on. Someone who would always be there, through thick and thin.

He would never make someone feel bad for hurting or exploring explosions of pain that had rippled across their lifetimes. 

He was hilarious. At times shocking in just how quick his wit truly was. For him, a win was defined in outbursts of laughter caused by anything he’d done. 

Dean was softer than most people would expect. He believed that almost any problem could be solved by a tender embrace or a light kiss or a squeezed hand. It was in direct opposition to the image he’d worked so hard to maintain. 

He had a kind soul, a bright soul, one that was expressed with each smile or laugh or bounce of his eyebrows. 

His deepest desires were confined to his family, both blood and otherwise. 

Dean’s friends were the source of his happiest moments, and he was never one to make them feel alone or unwanted. After all, if they had been one to make him feel at home, he felt as though it was only fair he did the same. 

His sense of justice was profound and limitless. If there was a wrong, it had to be righted, by any means necessary. 

He loved fiercely, with complete and total sincerity and near divinity. It was something that no one could deny or dispute. His heart was the center of his being. It was the sole constant of him. No matter what changes or challenges he went through, his love remained unwavering and sturdy.

Dean was the type of person who would never run from a fight, but could easily determine which cause was his hill to die on. It was this that made him so strong. 

His strength was another of his outstanding qualities. He could go through almost anything and come out the other side with a smile and a shake of his head. 

He was courageous, never one to vocalize fear, always the first to jump in to save someone in need. He’d saved Castiel more than once. When Dean was afraid, the fear wouldn’t get the better of him. He would acknowledge it, digest it, and then find a way to work through it. In many ways, he was stronger than anyone else. 

Dean was a dreamer, which is something he might deny, but was completely and utterly true. He had lofty goals, often pushing them to the side to allow others to pursue their own, but when he carved out time to work toward them, he did so with gusto. He wasn’t one to easily forget about or abandon them. 

He was surprisingly gentle. His voice, his movements, his smile. Nearly everything about him lacked the hard edge he initially presented, much to his disdain. 

He was, to put it nicely, a heartthrob. Attractive and funny and not at all scary, though many may contest that fact.

But more than all of this, he was Dean Winchester. And why not love him?


End file.
